


Shades of Tatooine

by Anonymous



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: F/F, F/M, Female Anakin Skywalker, Genderbend, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Podracing, Rule 63, Slavery, Tatooine Slave Culture, What if the Phantom Menace never happened?, and all the unpleasantness that goes with it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-25 11:24:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12530236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: "Who is that?" Obi-Wan peered through the content crowd in the Cantina and up at the vidscreens.The male Human paraded up to the winner's podium, positively basking in the attention, while Skywalker trailed behind him. She didn't look particularly pleased to have won. In fact, she seemed to be moving rather mechanically. She was pulled onto the podium, and the man raised her arms above her head. The crowd cheered for their champion."Is he her sponsor?”“No.” Quinlan's face had lost his exuberance and had turned into a grim frown. “It's her handler. She's a slave.”AKA - I explore how the story would go if the Phantom Menace never happened and Anakin never left Tattooine.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been reading a lot of Rule 63 fic recently and I got struck by this idea. I know it's been done before, but not often from the perspective of a female Anakin. (I mean, if we assume Shmi wasn't a lizard of some sort, then the only genetic material for the Force to work with to create Anakin would have been her own.)  
> Anyway, I typed this up pretty quick and thought it was half-decent, so here you go!
> 
> Please Note: Archive Warnings are all implied/referenced

* * *

 

“So, Kenobi, is this your first time out to a Hutt controlled planet?”

Obi-Wan tried to mask the withering glare he shot his copilot. He and Vos had always been somewhat at odds with each other ever since their days as initiates. He wasn’t sure who exactly he had to thank –strangle – for assigning them a joint mission, but he was almost certain his former Master had something to do with it. It wasn’t necessarily a bad idea, sending two Jedi on this mission. Neither of them had padawans to drag around, and the Kiffar’s tracking abilities would certainly come in handy when it came to finding the source of this sudden upwelling in Force activity. The Council believed an incredibly powerful Force Sensitive had been born. And with the ever growing threat of the Sith looming in the Outer Rim, swift action had to be taken.

As such, Obi-Wan found himself reluctantly paired with Quinlan Vos as their borrowed luxury skiff sped through hyperspace on the way to Tatooine. Their cover was that they were some high-rolling off-worlders who flew in for a local festival of some sort. They’d have a few days to poke around and if necessary, settle themselves in until they found the source of that massive Force presence.

Obi-Wan drew a breath and released his frustration. “No, it’s not my first Hutt planet.” Vos had spent much of his Knighthood in the Outer Rim; he was something of an expert. “But I was only a Padawan, and it has been several years.”

“Good thing I came along for the ride, then.” Vos grinned and leaned back in his seat, kicking his feet up onto the console. He launched into a long, and oftentimes tangential, explanation about Hutt planet culture.

Obi-Wan tried to listen, but Quinlan’s train of thought jumped around more randomly than a kangarat and it was hard to keep track when one anecdote abruptly segued into an “oh by the way, don’t forget this” warning, which then turned into another story what had nothing to do with the previous story. It was confusing, and frustrating, but in the end, Obi-Wan was almost certain he picked up on the important points.

Vos seemed to have no shortage of material to talk about, though. He had managed to fill the silence of the nearly two day trip with nothing but Outer Rim tales.

Obi-Wan prayed that this was going to be a short mission. He wasn’t certain how well he’d tolerate spending weeks or possibly months, in Vos’ company.

The Mos Espa space port was insanely busy. Obi-Wan could sense the thrumming lifeforms surging through the city before they even made land fall. When he stepped off the ship, he had to stop for a moment to let his shocked lungs adapt. He was certain he had just breathed in a lungful of scorching hot sand by the way he coughed and hacked himself through his first few minutes on the planet surface. Obi-Wan had been to deserts before, he was aware of how hot and dry they could be, but he’d never experienced anything like this.

Vos patted him on the back gently. “You’ll get used to it,” he said, “Tatooine’s a nasty place. It’s a binary system, complete desert. Only the northern hemisphere is habitable, and that’s still a small amount of territory near the pole. Even in the city, double noon can kill you if you aren’t prepared.”

“Who would possibly want to live here?” Obi-Wan choked out after his lungs stopped spasming.

Quinlan shrugged. “People who don’t want to draw attention to themselves.” He pulled his hood over his head and walked towards the docking bay doors. “Come on, it’s mid-afternoon, we should have time to poke around and see what we can dig up.”

Obi-Wan hurriedly took a swig from his flask of water and followed. They stepped into the closely pressed crowds of myriad species. The smell was the first thing to hit Obi-Wan, that many bodies close together, sweating and reeking gave the city a distinctly nauseating tinge to the air. The noise, and physical closeness, and the presence of so many people in the Force was just too overwhelming. It shouldn’t have been. Obi-Wan had been raised on Coruscant. The city-planet had four times the population squeezed into an area half the size of Most Espa; the multitudes should not have bothered him. He was going to blame the heat and leave it at that.

“Is it always so crowded?” Obi-Wan managed to sidle up to Quinlan and mutter in his ear.

“No,” the Kiffar shook his head. “There’s a preliminary podrace starting in an hour or so, but the big one isn’t for a few days. Most of these people are here for that.”

“Podrace?”

“You’ve never seen one?” Quinlan seemed quite surprised, then after a thought shrugged. “Then again, they aren’t very popular in the Core and Inner Rim. They’re extremely dangerous and the body count is on par with gladiatorial combat.” Quinlan laughed. “I’ll be damned if they aren’t entertaining though.”

“People die?”

“There’s usually one fatality per race. More with the big races like the Boonta Eve Classic. ‘Playing fair’ isn’t really a viable concept with this sport.”

“Sounds barbaric.” Obi-Wan muttered.

“Could be worse,” Vos offered. “It could be gladiatorial fights. Though, that’s not nearly as lucrative a sport as podracing on Tatooine. Aside from the krayt dragon’s, there’s not a lot of natural predators that make a fun fight. And watching slaves beat on each other gets old after a while.”

Obi-Wan didn’t know whether to be horrified or infuriated. He looked at his companion, and saw by the set of Quinlan’s jaw that he was equally displeased with what passed for “sport” out in the uncivilized reaches of the galaxy.

They walked in silence for several minutes, pushing deeper into the city. Obi-Wan was beginning to feel parched, but he knew better than to flash his canteen on the crowded streets. On desert planets, water was more precious than platinum, and certainly worth killing over. Not to mention, he would need to conserve it, until he knew they’d be returning to the ship. As time passed, the crowds on the street begin to thin, opting to gather in buildings and under awnings around clunky, fuzzy, old vidscreens.

“The race will be starting soon,” Vos commented, leading them off the street. “I know a place we can watch from.”

Obi-Wan hoped it would be someplace shaded. They ducked into a packed cantina. The general atmosphere was cheerful if anticipatory. Nearly every open space was filled with bodies, and several vidscreens hung high on the walls and over the bar. They were all tuned to the same channel that appeared to be doing some kind of pre-race report on the racers.

Obi-Wan followed Vos up to the bar, where they squeezed into the elbow space between a Wookie and a Chiss. It took a moment for the bartender to see them, but when she did, she was less than happy.

“Vos you son of a massif, I thought I told you to never show your face around here again!” the old Theelin snapped.

“Mikanet, my desert flower, you’re looking as radiant as ever,” Vos gushed, leaning across the counter and flashing a charming smile.

“Save the flattery, you sycophantic Jedi,” Mikanet grumbled, snapping at Vos’ arms with her towel. Their exchange was playfully antagonistic and obviously one they had done several times before. “You here for the Classic?” she asked, pulling two glasses from under the counter. She filled them with an odd, green liquid. “Tyrak is still taking bets.”

“Your husband still owes me from last year’s Classic.”

“You skipped town right after the race. That forfeits your winnings.” The Theelin slid the full glasses towards Vos.

“Ah, I’m sure you put them to good use.” Quinlan waved his hand dismissively before sliding one of the glasses over to Obi-Wan.

“I got a new pair of boots for my birthday.”

“Well consider it my gift to you.” Vos raised his glass in a small toast to the bartender before taking a drink. “Who’s in the lineup today?” he asked, nodding towards a vidscreen.

“Skywalker’s racing today. She’s had an undefeated season, so that’s making folks pretty happy. She’s slated to take the Boonta Eve Classic by a landslide. Only a moof-milker would bother betting against her at this point.”

Vos nodded in agreement. “She certainly is talented. Any surprise upstarts this season?”

“Well, there’s a new Dug who looks promising, but-“ Mikanet cut off abruptly as someone called her name from the opposite end of the bar. “Duty calls,” she sighed before hurrying off.

“Thanks for the drinks!” Quinlan called after her.

“You’re paying for those!” she shot back.

The Kiffar chuckled and turned around to skim the bar. “Hey, I just saw a table open up.” He nudged Obi-Wan with his elbow before squeezing through the crowd. Obi-Wan followed, bring his untouched glass with him.

They did come across a table in the back corner, set into a small alcove. It didn’t offer a good vantage on any viewscreens, but Obi-Wan could see enough between several to get the full picture.

“So what’s the plan?” he asked before taking a sip of his drink. It was some kind of liquor, with a horrid, sharp, and sour taste. He nearly spat out his first sip, but after he choked it down it left a mellow, cool and sweet aftertaste. He must have made a face, because Vos was smirking at him.

“You’ll get used to the taste,” the Kiffar assured him. “It’s a local specialty distilled from some native succulents, herbs, and fungi.”

“The plan, Vos.” Obi-Wan repeated, not giving into the other’s ribbing.

“Almost the entire planet’s population is going to be pouring into Mos Espa over the next few days for the Boonta Eve Classic. If they show up, I’ll be able to catch their trail.”

“And if not?”

“That narrows down where we have to look.”

“Who wouldn’t make it to the race?”

“Mostly slaves. But poor moisture farmers out on the fringes of the habitable zone wouldn’t bother wasting the time or resources for the trip.”

“Are there any native sentients on Tatooine? Or is this an immigrated planet.”

Vos paused and rubbed at his chin thoughtfully. “Well, there are the Jawas and the Tusken Raiders. I’ve never heard of any history of Force sensitivity in either species. Or else the Jedi would have taken notice long ago. However, it’s a possibility. Who we sensed may be the first of their kind, or Force Sensitivity is incredibly rare in their species.” He leaned back easily in his seat and took another drink. “We’ll see where the Force leads us.”

Obi-Wan’s response was interrupted by a blaring fanfare from the vidscreens and a sudden hush fell over the cantina. All eyes turned to the podrace.

Racers and their pods were being paraded onto the track. Beasts and heavy droids dragged the pods into position, they were preceded by banner carriers, and bringing up the rear of the procession were the racers and their sponsors. The announcers were introducing the racers as they took the field, each one being greeted with varying levels of enthusiasm. Eleven took the position and anticipatory eyes fell on the last open position; nearest to the starting line and closest to the inside. Then with a new fanfare, the last racer emerged from the garages.

Two female Twi’leks emerged first, carrying large flags that bore the symbol of the Hutt clan. The cameras took their time panning over their bodies for the audience’s pleasure. Following them, a pair of Nubian Gualaar pulled a surprisingly moderately sized pod into the sunlight. It had been polished to a high gloss and it shone in the bright sunlight. Then, with a roar from the crowd, the pilot stepped out. She was the only one to emerge solo, and the cameras ate her up. Her leather uniform also bore the same mark of the Hutt clan; it was oiled and well cared for, almost looking new. The pilot herself was a young human woman of proud bearing. She held her chin high, keeping her blue eyes focused on her pod. Her blonde hair had been pulled back into a secure bun at the nape of her neck, and she carried a helmet under one arm. Her face was set like stone, her mouth a thin line, her jaw clenched, her eyes burning with the desire to win, and the promise to do anything to ensure that. She took a few paces before, almost as if belatedly remembering, she cracked a small smirk to the cameras. The crowd went wild, and cheers even went up in the cantina. Obi-Wan caught more than a few lewd comments. The pilot raised her free hand and waved to the crowd and the cameras. When she reached her pod, she turned directly towards the stands and bent into a deep bow. As she straightened up, she set the helmet over her head and climbed into her pod. The cameras swept away to get a wider view of the racers.

“That is Skywalker,” Vos said, once the noise in the cantina died down a bit.

“She seems to be quite popular.”

“Humans don’t usually make good podracers. Their natural reflexes are too slow, but Skywalker’s been racing since she was a child. And she _never_ loses.”

“Is she only part-human?” Obi-Wan asked.

Vos shrugged. “She’s very private. Not much is known about her other than she races for the Hutts.”

On that note, the vidscreen switched to a view of a lavish viewing box where a couple Hutts gathered. They were relaxing in the shade and were being served and fanned by servants. One slid up to a microphone near the front of the box. Another silence fell over the crowds as he began to speak.

“Jabba the Hutt.” Quinlan explained. “He runs the show on Tatooine.”

The Hutt’s remarks were brief and he retreated back to his shade and snacks. However the crowds stayed silent and the anticipation rose. A tone sounded, and the pods surged forward, launching off at speeds that could harm anyone unprepared.

As soon as the race started, the crowd’s exploded. The cantina was filled with a cacophony of cheers and jeers as the pods wound themselves through obstacles and around bends and curves at breakneck speeds. Skywalker’s pod was easy to track. She broke off ahead of the group rather quickly, and a camera always seemed to be trained on her pod.

Vos was right, the race was exciting – not that Obi-Wan was going to admit it. He tried to get what little of a read he could on the racers as they flew across the track. A sport such as this and at these speeds would certainly be easy, if not fun, for some with Force sensitivity. There were several different species represented by the racers; all known to have naturally better reflexes than humans. But he kept finding his eye drawn towards Skywalker’s pod. What if…

A collective gasp rose up when two pods collided near the midway point of the first lap. One pod broke apart into several pieces, engines flying off in different directions, and the other just burst into a fireball. The race continued, the other pilots hardly giving the wreck a second glance, other than to make adjustments to avoid any further collisions. After the last pod cleared, several emergency vehicles swooped in, to put out the flames and recover the pilots. Obi-Wan found himself sighing with relief when the announcers assured the viewers that there had been no fatalities – other than the pods – in the crash.

Again, Obi-Wan found his eyes drawn to Skywalker. It dawned on him just as she crossed the finish line. He turned to Vos, and saw the Kiffar had turned to him at the same time.

“Skywalker’s our source,” Kenobi breathed. “All this time she’s been racing and nobody ever notice she was Force Sensitive?”

Vos could only offer a shrug. “She’s never resonated. I’ve watched her race before, in person. I never sense a thing.”

“So what changed?”

A cry of surprise and dismay rose from the cantina crowd as the racers flew into their second lap. The pods hid a wide open straightaway and one pod extricated itself from the cluster in the middle and blasted forward, kicking up a cloud of sand behind it. It was a small, beat up old thing, but it clearly had the guts to race seriously. The cameras zoomed in and Obi-Wan could see the pilot was a Dug; the same young upstart the bartender had mentioned. He zipped past the other racers, quickly sliding into the sizeable gap between Skywalker and the Xexto behind her. The cries only got more excited, and upset as the Dug closed the gap between him and Skywalker. At the midpoint of the lap, they were neck and neck, and the crowds did not like that. Then the Dug rammed into Skywalker’s pod, sending her careening off and forcing her to slow down. The crowd howled and Obi-Wan was fairly certain there was going to be a riot if Skywalker lost this race.

Fortunately for the crowd, Skywalker regained control of her pod and surged forward again. Due to the bump, Skywalker had fallen back into fourth place and the Dug had gained a bit of a lead, but she quickly made up for lost time. She got back into third as the pods were forced into a narrow canyon, but as soon as that cleared enough space for her to slide past the racer in second, she did, and the Xexto was forced to eat her dust. The next section wasn’t meant for speed, boulders and jutting rock formations forced the pods into slaloms, and here, Skywalker’s pod had a disadvantage to the Dug smaller pod. Hers wasn’t massive, but it just didn’t maneuver as tightly as the small pod did. The Dug maintained his lead, and managed to put some more space between him and Skywalker as he crossed the line and began the third and final lap.

Obi-Wan found himself silently egging on Skywalker, while Vos was quite vocal with his cheers. They broke onto the straightaway again, and Skywalker and the Dug pulled even farther ahead of the pack. Skywalker had a few tricks up her sleeve, and she managed to boost her speed and catch up to the Dug. The two parried back and forth, going nose to nose; Skywalker pulling ahead, then she had to dodge another ramming attempt and fall back, then she’d return the favor. They seemed evenly matched, and it was Skywalker who squeezed into the canyon just inches ahead of the Dug. She took the canyon even faster than her previous passes, and Obi-Wan winced as she hit the rock walls and sparks flew. Miraculously, she managed to maintain control and her recklessness gained her a lead over the Dug.

They reached the slaloms again, and the Dug closed the gap. They were even as they reached the home stretch and both pilots laid everything they had into their engines, going to a final sprint. Skywalker’s larger pod and engines had the advantage here and she began pulling ahead. Unwilling to face defeat, the Dug swung his pod, trying to sideswipe Skywalker and send her spinning off. She dodged without even looking over her shoulder, and the Dug spun out of control. He narrowly avoided smashing into a boulder, and managed to right his vehicle rather quickly, but the mistake cost him dearly. The other racers had given the final lap their all as well and they had caught up. By the time the Dug straightened out and finished the race, he was in fourth place.

Not that anyone cared what place the Dug came in. The entire Cantina, and what appeared to be the entire crowd at the racetrack were on their feet cheering for Skywalker. Even Vos was on his feet and shouting with the crowds.

Cameras followed her as she pulled her pod off the track and over to her pit crew. She hopped out of the cockpit and made a couple remarks to the droid in charge before she was swarmed. A male Human ran up and clapped her on the back rather enthusiastically. Skywalker removed her helmet, and took a moment to shake her hair out while the man muttered in her ear. She quickly tied it back up into a bun while the man shoved her away from the pod and towards a rapidly thickening crowd.

"Who is that?" Obi-Wan peered through the content crowd in the Cantina and up at the vidscreens.

The male Human paraded up to the winner's podium, positively basking in the attention, while Skywalker trailed behind him. She didn't look particularly pleased to have won. In fact, she seemed to be moving rather mechanically. She didn’t wave, didn’t make eye contact with her admirers or look at the cameras.

She was pulled onto the podium, and the man raised her arms above her head. The crowd cheered for their champion. As if jolted from a reverie, like any good champion, she smiled for her fans and the camera, but it didn't reach her eyes. The man, however, was loving every second of it.

“Is he her sponsor?”

“No.” Quinlan's face had lost his exuberance and had turned into a grim frown. “It's her handler. She's a slave.”

The crowds on the ground parted, giving a newcomer a wide berth. Jabba the Hutt oozed his way up to winner's podium whole the crowd called out congratulations to him. Obi-wan couldn't see his face, but by the way his arms were spread wide, he was quite happy. He climbed the platform and came up behind Skywalker, the handler stepped away, and the Hutt laid both hands possessively over Skywalker's shoulder. The crowd pressed close again, cameras and microphones swarming like gnats.

The Hutt spoke and Vos translated. “He's taking credit for the victory, mentioning that Skywalker was the best investment he ever made. Unimportant, self-inflating poodoo. But things just got harder. If she is our source, we'll need a miracle to get her out of Jabba's hands.”

“Couldn't we buy her freedom?”

Quinlan shook his head. “A slave that valuable would never be sold until her usefulness has run out.”

“Now what?”

“We need to make sure she’s actually who were looking for. We’ve got to get close.”

“But if she’s a slave, how are we going to get that close to her?”

“Easy, we just have to get into Jabba’s palace.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if there's anything you think should be tagged.  
> Also, let me know if you'd be interested in more!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! I was not expecting this much enthusiasm and support from you all just off the first chapter! Thank you so much!
> 
> CW for Slavery, implied/reference rape/non-con, and a lot of gross unpleasantness that goes with being a Hutt slave, drug and alcohol reference/use.

* * *

* * *

 

Getting into the Hutt’s palace was possibly the easiest part of their mission thus far. They left the ship secured in Mos Espa and took a speeder out into the desert. The palace wasn’t far from the city, but farther than anyone would want to walk in this climate. There was certainly a lot of privacy out there. The palace was a popular place that evening, revelers were streaming in to celebrate the podrace and spend the next few days in a drunken stupor until the Boonta Eve Classic. The guards were busy, and all Vos had to do was flash an identachip to the valet and they were practically given free reign.

“Do you think Skywalker will be out here?” Obi-Wan asked, eyeing the slaves that wound their way through the crowds, or lead guests off down corridors. They all seemed to be more for service than skillful racing.

“The Hutts like to show off,” Quinlan explained as they stepped around a group of Trandoshans. “Jabba will be parading her around all night.”

“And if she is the Force Sensitive we’re looking for, what’s the plan for wining her freedom?”

“That I don’t know. Not yet.” Vos smirked at Obi-Wan. “You’re the improviser, not me, Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. He hadn’t been Master Qui-Gon’s apprentice for nearly ten years, and he still had to carry his Master’s reputation with him. He preferred a solid plan. “Where did you get that chip from?” he asked, changing the subject.

“I have rapport with the Hutts. I’ve never worked with Jabba directly, but I’ve done… favors for some of the other heads of the clan. They’ve put my talents to good use.”

“Favors?” Obi-Wan tried not to sound too judgmental, but Vos’ tone made ‘favors’ sound much more illicit than helping with an errand.

“Don’t get your tabard in a twist; they were all sanctioned by the Council. My mission out here has included garnering favor with the Hutts, so when things turn south we might be able to build an alliance between them and the Republic. I’ve done enough favors that they have granted me VIP access to any Hutt establishment in the galaxy.” Vos shrugged somewhat uncomfortably. “I may not use it for what the Hutts think I would, but it has come in handy many times.”

They stepped into a large room that was nearly packed with people. A band was centered in the room, and they played a jaunty, celebratory tune. Directly across from them was an opened area with a wide, raised platform. Obi-Wan figured it must be a small stage, as the room was arranged to the platform could be seen from anywhere. Close to the entrance was a bar that was currently very busy.

“Jabba’s not on his throne,” Vos muttered as he led them to a table near the back of the room. “Shouldn’t be long, though. He’s not going to keep his champion sequestered.”

They were tended to almost as soon as they sat down by a togruta woman. Vos flashed his VIP chip and asked for two glasses of pallie juice and to be left alone. The togruta complied quickly, and Obi-Wan could feel the gratitude flushing through her. By the look of other patrons, most preferred extra attention from their servers, not less.

The pallie juice was certainly more palatable than the liquor Vos had given him earlier, and it quite readily quenched Obi-Wan’s ever present thirst. He knew he had to conserve his water, but this planet was too damn dry. He was happy for a substitute. While they nursed their drinks and scanned the increasing crowd in the room, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but point out several known, and wanted bounty hunters to Vos.

“Well, yeah, the Outer Rim is where bounty hunters live. The Hutts are responsible for most of their jobs.”

“But they’re wanted criminals!” Obi-Wan hissed.

“Not out here.” Quinlan sighed softly. “I don’t like it either, Kenobi, but half of the people in this room are bounty hunters. If you go making arrests in the name of the Republic you’ll probably end up dead… at the very least, you’ll blow the whole mission.”

“I know; it just feels wrong to let them go freely.”

“Oh, I am keeping tabs on most of them. I just need to wait for the word when it’s the most opportune moment to take the out.” Vos assured him with a confident smirk.

Slightly assuaged, Obi-Wan returned to his crowd watching. Over an hour passed since their arrival and he was beginning to get antsy. They hadn’t seen hide or hair of the Hutt or Skywalker.

“Should we go looking for her?” Obi-Wan asked once the band wrapped up a particularly raunchy song – not that he understood the Huttesse lyrics, but the crowd had enjoyed it, and the context wasn’t too hard to figure out.

Quinlan checked his chrono. “Another fifteen minutes. Then we’ll go poking around.”

The words had barely left the Kiffar’s mouth when a sudden silence fell over the crowded room as a tan-skinned male Twi’lek stepped out onto the central platform.

“Bib Fortuna, Jabba’s majordomo.” Quinlan muttered quickly before the twi’lek began speaking.

Vos translated for Obi-Wan as Fortuna made an embellished speech about their host that evening. The Twi’lek practically oozed sycophancy, but as he wrapped up, the Hutt in question slithered out onto his throne. The crowd responded with appropriate enthusiasm and Jabba basked in it. After the noise died down and Jabba settled into his throne, Bib Fortuna gestured sharply across the room.

The band struck up a tune and lights dimmed, leaving only the space before the throne illuminated. A quartet of dancers in elaborate costume hurried into position before the throne and bowed deep before falling into provocative poses. The music picked up and the women danced for the Hutt and his guests. When they finished, a singer took the stage to perform a song. After him there was another dancer, her routine was even more risqué than the quartet’s.

“She’s not here,” Obi-Wan muttered after the dancer finished her routine.

Quinlan frowned. “She should be. Jabba should be parading her around and using the high of her victory to get patrons to buy more drinks. If she doesn’t show up soon, we’ll go find her.”

“How soon? We’re wasting time just sitting here.”

“Hold on, something’s happening.” Vos paused, as his eyes caught something. Obi-Wan followed his gaze and saw a human man had sidled up to Bib Fortuna and was muttering something in his ear. Whatever he said made Fortuna nod approvingly and gesture for the man to take the floor. As he stepped into the light, Obi-Wan recognized the man.

“That’s Skywalker’s handler.”

“She’ll be making an appearance soon, then.”

The handler beamed at the crowd, waiting for a moment to draw attention. “ _Ladies and Gentlemen, honored guests of the Great Jabba the Hutt, it has truly been a great day, has it not? And it’s not even Boonta Eve yet!_ ” He paused for applause and the crowd responded. Obi-Wan had to admit, the handler seemed to be quite the charismatic character. “ _But, we all know you’re not_ just _here to get drunk and get laid,”_ he paused again for a chorus of approving jeers. “ _You’re here for the truly rare opportunity to touch a distant, unreachable star. To dance with an angel – though if that’s all you have in mind, buddy I’ve got a few suggestions.”_ This raised laughter from the crowd.

Obi-Wan frowned at the impropriety of it all. “Is this typical behavior?” he whispered to Quinlan.

“We’re in a Hutt _pleasure den_ , Kenobi. This is nothing.” Vos shot back before continuing his translation.

Obi-Wan frowned and sat back in his seat, suddenly very grateful his specialty was the Mid-Rim.

“ _Now, I won’t keep you waiting any longer.”_ The handler lowered his voice into a conspiratorial tone. “ _It’s time for the main attraction. My friends, this is the moment we have been waiting for, and it is my great pleasure to present to you your favorite pod racer and mine, the one who has secured the Hutt’s racing supremacy for five straight years, the Pearl of the Krayt Dragon and the most prized Jewel of Jabba’s treasury, our great Champion… SKYWALKER!”_

The room was plunged into darkness and a spotlight shone to the main doorway. A drum roll started and the crowd fell into anticipatory silence. Sharp heels clicked against the stone floors and a young woman stepped into the spotlight triggering a roar of applause. The band began to play again and the tune made Obi-Wan feel like he was watching a cheap holodrama.

The Force Signature hit him like a punch, and he knew in an instant that that woman was the one they had been searching for.

Obi-Wan almost didn't recognize Skywalker. She had been stripped of her leather racing uniform and now wore an outfit that seemed more suited for a strip club than a celebration of her victory. Her shoes were impractically tall and strappy, with golden leather ties crossing and winding up her legs. They stopped just below her knees where the hem of her skirt hit... though calling it a _skirt_ was being generous. A delicate golden chain rested on her hips, and emerald green silk strategically draped over the chain, wrapping around one hip. Her midriff was left bare, showing off her lithe, toned body and smooth, flawless skin. Only a bejeweled strip of matching green silk covered her breasts.  A heavy, brassy necklace was clamped around her neck. Her face was heavy with makeup, smiling lips vermilion, batting eyes heavily lined with kohl and painted green and gold. Her long hair had been artfully braided and coiled around her head.

She would have been a stunningly beautiful sight of not for the choking waves of disdain rolling off her. Obi-Wan felt ashamed to stare at her and quickly looked away.

Skywalker began a slow, sultry walk through the room. She trailed a hand across several tables, teasing the occupants with a coy smile. Eventually she made her way up to the Hutt's throne, and she bowed low for her master. Jabba grunted something to her and beckoned her forward. Skywalker stepped up obediently and perched herself at the edge of the throne. The Hutt trailed a hand up her back and down her arm. Obi-Wan could see Skywalker flinch at the touch. Then he reached around her neck, holding a heavy chain, and made a show of linking the chain to her necklace – no _collar_.

Skywalker held her head high and proud during the whole ordeal, but Obi-Wan could feel the shameful resignation projecting from her. After the leashing, Jabba handed the chair over the Bib Fortuna, who passed it onto the handler. Skywalker followed the leash obediently and stepped into the center of the room. He walked her across the open area, and had her turn a few times for show. The crowd loved it.

“They’re auctioning her off,” Vos explained in a hurried whisper.

“Jabba is selling her? You said he wouldn’t.”

“No, it’s just for the night.” Quinlan paused as the handler spoke some more. A revolted frown pulled at his lips. “He’s saying things too disgusting to repeat.”

“You sensed what I did; she is the one we are looking for, yes?”

“Yes, she’d definitely the one.”

“Then how are we going to talk to her? She’s literally on a short leash.”

“We win the auction.” Vos stated it simply, so matter-of-fact that Obi-Wan got the feeling he had planned for a situation like this.

Whatever response he had though, was cut off when the handler opened up bidding at one wupiupi, and Vos joined in with forced, if not convincing enthusiasm. Nearly every table had at least one person bidding at the start, but they quickly fell away as the price soared.

After the initial round of bidding ended, and the contenders were down to ten, the handler took to walking Skywalker around the room. He made sure to stop her by every bidder’s table, taking his time to expound on her youth and beauty. The bidding was no less enthusiastic, but the prices started making greater jumps and the price climbed into the thousands.

Eventually only three remained. Vos, a female Zygerrian, and a male Theelin. The nature of the auction changed. The handler gave each bidder the opportunity to write down their final wager, and whoever paid the best, would win the prize.

“The Council will never approve to that sum!” Obi-Wan hissed as Quinlan penned down a sum of almost 13,000 Republic Credits.

“Can you sense how powerful she is?” Vos whispered back. “They’ll pay anything to secure her and bring her back to Coruscant before the Sith can take notice. Besides,” he nodded toward the Theelin’s table. “We’re going to get out bid. We just need them to take notice of us. If they think we’re here on Jedi business, they’ll watch us. If they think we’ve snuck out to the Outer Rim to blow off a little steam, they’ll leave us alone.”

“And do you have that much money on hand, because I don’t.”

Vos pulled his VIP identachip out and twirled it between his fingers. “I have a small ransom from favors I’ve done the Hutts. The goal isn’t to win though. She’ll never let us get close enough to explain if we buy her.”

The bids were collected, and the handler made an event of reading them aloud to the room. In the end, the Theelin won with a bid of 25,000 wupiupi.

“Now what?” Obi-Wan asked once the music had picked up. Skywalker had returned to her perch on Jabba’s throne and the triumphant Theelin was currently enjoying his victory by having the losers buy him drinks.

“We wait. Skywalker will be alone after our winner claims his prize. Might be a few hours though, have a drink Kenobi.”

 

Eventually the Hutt’s party did wind down, though not until late in the night. Obi-Wan spent most of his time watching the Theelin, waiting for him to leave the club room so he could follow him and leave as well. Finally, when he was nearly blind drunk, the Theelin stumbled over to Jabba and collected Skywalker from her master. The Hutt made some comment to the Theelin as he unhooked the chain from Skywalker’s collar. Despite the anger radiating off her, Skywalker kept an amorous smile on the Theelin and batted her eyes at him. The Theelin threw his arm around her, already making to grope her. Skywalker laughed and teased him, before putting her arm around him. She practically carried him out of the room.

By this point, half of the revelers were passed out at their tables or in corners of the room, the other half were stumbling their way back to someone’s bed. Quinlan had wandered off to the bar to chat with a group of bounty hunters he knew some time ago. Obi-Wan went to find him as soon as he saw Skywalker leave, and he was thoroughly surprised and annoyed to find Vos quite loud and drunk at the bar.

“Obieeee! My bezt friend!” Vos slurred, throwing his arm around Obi-Wan’s shoulder and dragging him in close. “I was jus’ telling my friends here a _really_ funny story.”

Obi-Wan heaved a sigh. It looked like this mission had just fallen to his responsibility. Vos wasn’t going to be any help tonight. “Come on, Quin, it’s late. You should go to bed.”

Vos chuckled weakly and rested his forehead on Kenobi’s shoulder. “Heh, you haven’t called me ‘Quin’ since we were itty bitty initiates.” He looked up blearily at Obi-Wan and gasped softly, reaching a hand up to grope at the top of his head. “You were so short back then… what happened?”

“I grew up.” Obi-Wan said dryly. “Now come on.”

“Okaaaay, it’s bedtime I guess.” Vos trudged a few obedient steps before stopping. “I gotta say goodnight to my friends.” He twisted around to wave haphazardly at the group at the bar. “Goodnight friends!”

“You’ll see them tomorrow, Vos.” Obi-Wan tugged impatiently on Quinlan’s sleeve and his fellow Jedi finally gave up and followed. The remaining patrons at the bar all had a good laugh at their expense.

Obi-Wan dragged Vos out into the thankfully empty hall. Vos detached himself from Obi-Wan and stood up straight; his face lost the bleary, drunk glaze. Sobriety in a split second.

“Skywalker’s gone?” he asked, with no trace of the happy drunk he had just been.

“A few minutes ago. That was an act?!”

“Of course it was! We’re on a mission.”

Kenobi sighed and shook his head. “You make a very convincing drunk.”

“And you make a very grumpy, sober friend,” Vos quipped back with a smirk. He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. Obi-Wan could feel the Force settle around them. “I’ve got her trail. Let’s go.”

Sneaking through the palace was easy. The guests all seemed to have fallen into a drug or alcohol induced coma, the guards were easy to misdirect, and the service staff wouldn’t say anything to the two prowling Jedi anyway. They were honored guests after all.

And now that they had gotten a solid read on her Force signature, tracking down Skywalker was simple for Vos. By this point, most of the palace was asleep or otherwise preoccupied. Quinlan took the lead, and Obi-Wan kept his senses on alert for any raised suspicions. But even without Vos’ tracking talents, Obi-Wan could have found Skywalker on his own.

Her Force signature was so distinct and powerful! There was a lot of untapped raw power in that woman. Obi-Wan shuddered to think what it would be like to have that power turned against them. He considered it highly fortunate that the Sith apparently hadn’t taken notice of the slave either.

Their hunt led them into another corridor of guest quarters and to a door where some highly satisfied noises were unfortunately drifting out into the hall. Obi-Wan paused and shot Quinlan a look. Were they really about to walk in on _that_?

“Sense a little deeper,” Vos whispered.

Obi-Wan did, and mingled with the pleasured waves coming off one occupant of the room, there was the haze of sleep. And when he felt for Skywalker, he only sensed boredom, disgust, and stillness from the opposite corner of the room. That made things a little better. He didn’t think this Skywalker would take too kindly to them if they walked in on her in a compromising situation.

“Ready?” Vos asked, his hand hovering over the door’s locking mechanism.

Obi-Wan nodded, and kept his hand near his saber on his hilt. Vos unlocked the door and they rushed in. Skywalker’s anger was immediate and palpable as they entered the room. She shot to her feet, and glared at the intruding Jedi. She held a taser rod in her hand, and Obi-Wan couldn’t help but briefly wonder where she had hidden the weapon in the skimpy outfit the Hutts had auctioned her in.

“What do you want?” she hissed, baring her teeth and the taser rod. “You lost the auction. Get out before I call security!”

“That’s not what we’re here for, I assure you,” Obi-Wan quickly explained.

His response obviously surprised her, because her concentration, and her hold over the Theelin in the bed, broke. He seemed to wake up with a sudden jolt and he sat up, looking around the room.

“What’s this!?” he demanded after spying Skywalker fully clothed on the far side of the room.

“Go to sleep!” Skywalker ordered sharply, gesturing harshly at the Theelin. He slumped against the pillows in a dead faint.

“Nice trick,” Vos commented with an amused raise of his eyebrow.

“He’s so drunk, he wouldn’t remember anything anyway,” Skywalker spat before turning and fixing the Jedi with a solid, determined glare. “Now leave and forget what you’ve seen.”

Obi-Wan felt her Force suggestion slam against his mind, and he did feel slightly inclined to just leave her alone – after all, she was only a slave. _By the stars she was powerful!_ He mentally shook himself and fortified his shields. “I’m afraid that’s not going to work on us,” he offered neutrally.

“Who are you? What do you want?” Skywalker demanded.

“We are Jedi. I am Obi-Wan Kenobi, and this is Quinlan Vos.”

“What the hell are Jedi doing all the way out on Tatooine?”

“Looking for you, actually.” Vos offered with half a smirk.

“Why?”

Skywalker’s defensive stance hadn’t changed since they entered. Obi-Wan could feel her attempting to probe through their shields, and every second she couldn’t get a read on them, she grew more frustrated.

“That requires a bit of explanation, perhaps done elsewhere.” Obi-Wan offered.

“I’m not going anywhere with you!”

It was clear to the Jedi that Skywalker had a rudimentary grasp on her Force abilities. Obi-Wan made another offer. “If it will help, I’m going to lower some of my shields and you will see that we truly mean you no harm.”

A few tense seconds passed, and Obi-Wan tried not to cringe too much as Skywalker rooted through as much of his conscious that he dared to expose. She had no training, no sense of subtlety or gentleness, it felt like a child’s first clumsy attempts at Force Manipulation, but in his mind. Finally, Skywalker withdrew, and while she didn’t stop glaring, she did lower her stun rod.

“Why are you looking for me?” she asked, wariness still thick in her voice.

“We sensed an incredibly strong Force presence. The Jedi Council sent us to investigate and we found you to be the source.”

“The hell does that mean?”

“It means we’d like to speak to you. Preferably somewhere we won’t be interrupted,” Vos said, nodding towards the unconscious Theelin.

Skywalker cast a nervous glance to the bed. “You won’t report me?” she asked quietly.

“No.”

Skywalker drew a long breath through her nose and exhaled slowly. She was turning over the consideration in her mind, and the Jedi let her decide. After a long, tense moment, she shrugged and stepped forward.

“Alright, follow me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, that slow pan-up and the entire auction just made me feel so gross for writing... Ick. it had to be done, but I'll be happy if I never have to write a scene like that again.
> 
> Thanks for reading!  
> Let me know if there's anything that needs a more specific tag.  
> And let me know if you'd be interested in more!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which plans begin to form and Hutts are gross.
> 
> Content warning for implied/referenced rape/non-con and general slavery unpleasantness.

* * *

 

The palace’s subterranean slave quarters were cramped and still lively at this hour of the night. Obi-Wan expected to have to squeeze his way through crowds, and subtly move people out of his way, but the throngs parted for Skywalker. There seemed to be a mixed miasma of respect, fear, and awe as she strode through. Obi-Wan couldn’t be sure if it was due to her talent as a podracer, her strength in the Force, or the fact that she was apparently the Hutt’s favorite. If he was a betting man, he’d put most of his money on the latter.

They followed her, catching more than a few curious, wary glances. Some of the slaves called out things to Anakin in Huttese, and she often responded in a kind or neutral voice. Obi-Wan smelled food of varying types cooking, and several groups were in the middle of eating as they passed. He realized that despite the late hour, this was basically the evening for the slaves. Their days could only end after their masters’ did.

Skywalker led them to a nondescript door and they followed her into a tiny, cramped room. A small cooking area was squeezed into one corner, while a few cushions sat on the floor to make a seating area. The back corner seemed to be a workbench with various tools and parts strewn across the surface. The last corner was cordoned off with curtain, clearly a sleeping area.

An old, green-skinned Twi’lek was sitting on a cushion, thoroughly engrossed in mending a tunic, but she slowly rose to her feet when Anakin entered. Obi-Wan could hear her joints popping in protest even from several feet away. She exchanged a few hushed words with Skywalker, casting guarded glances to the Jedi.

“She doesn’t trust us,” Vos murmured. “She thinks we’ve coerced Skywalker.”

“Can you blame her?” Obi-Wan whispered back. “We don’t exactly look like we belong.”

Finally, Skywalker clapped the older Twi’lek on the shoulder, slipped her some money, and sent her out the door. She locked the door behind her and turned to face the Jedi, crossing her arms tightly.

“There’s going to be quite the gossip tomorrow,” Skywalker commented sardonically, “I’ve never brought guests home; much less two men.” She gestured to the cushions on the floor. “Sit. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Obi-Wan and Vos settled onto two cushions while Anakin disappeared behind the curtain. Obi-Wan studied the contents of the small hovel, but there really wasn’t much to see. A small cooling unit and cooking stove in the kitchen; varied half-disassembled devices on the workbench; the curtain was rough, opaque brown; mats covered the floor that seemed to be woven out of a plant-like material; a brightly colored scrap of cloth peeked out from underneath one of the worn cushions. Obi-Wan fished it out and found a rough-hewn doll. Its body was made from sackcloth and it felt like it was filled mostly with sand. A smiling mouth and eyes had been stitched on the face in black thread. The same black thread made a head of hair. A bright blue scrap of cloth had been sewn into a dress for the doll.

“What do you think of this?” Obi-Wan held the doll out for Vos. Skywalker was a little old for dolls, and seemed mature enough to move on from childhood sentiments.

“I’m not touching that,” Quinlan said quickly, recoiling slightly away from the doll. “There’s enough pain in the air down here. I don’t need that deep of a read on Skywalker yet.”

“Right, sorry.” Obi-Wan set the doll back down. “What kind of read are you getting?”

“Muddied and confusing.” Vos frowned. “In part, I think due to the multitudes in such close quarters. But there’s something specifically centered on Skywalker.”

Obi-Wan nodded in agreement. She was still a beacon in the Force, her signature glaringly bright, but things had felt somewhat shaded as they had entered the slave quarters. Something didn’t quite make sense to Obi-Wan. Skywalker had a rudimentary grasp of her powers, she was aware of what she could do. With her abilities, she could easily escape slavery or buy her freedom. So why hadn’t she?

Skywalker stepped back through the curtain, dressed in the standard sandy beige tunic and pants of Tatooine garb, her face was scrubbed of all make up, and she was working the braids out of her hair. In this state she looked far younger than Obi-Wan presumed.

She paused, looking down at the Jedi as she worked the last twist out of her long hair. “Can I get you something?” she asked after a silent moment.

“No, thank you,” Obi-Wan said.

“Do you mind if I do? I haven’t eaten yet.”

“It’s your home.” Vos gestured freely.

Skywalker turned to the kitchen area and pulled a small bowl and bottle out of the cooling unit. She settled onto the floor across from the Jedi and studied them silently while she pulled pieces of roasted vegetables out of the bowl.

“So why are Jedi looking for me?” she asked before popping a piece of food into her mouth.

Obi-Wan took over answering. “Well, Skywalker-“

“Anakin.”

“What?”

“My name is Anakin Skywalker. Call me Anakin.”

“Anakin.” Obi-Wan nodded. “We’re here because we followed a trail in the Force and found you.”

“You said that already. What do the Jedi want with me?”

“The plan is to find the source of this Force signature and bring them back to Coruscant.”

Anakin scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Good luck with that.” She took another bite of her food, chewed it thoughtfully and swallowed. “What is this ‘Force’ thing you keep mentioning?”

“The Force is all around us. It’s in everything. It binds the universe together and it unites all living things.” Obi-Wan explained.

Anakin responded with a skeptical, confused look as she chewed over a crunchy root.

Quinlan offered another explanation. “Some individuals have an affinity for the Force; it allows them to utilize certain abilities they normally wouldn’t be able to. For example, your ability to put images in the Theelin’s mind and make him sleep.”

Anakin pressed her lips together and looked down at the bowl in her lap. “But it doesn’t always work.”

“It wouldn’t,” Vos continued. “Some species are naturally resistance to Force influences. And you may be naturally talented, but ultimately untrained.” A pause, Vos studied Skywalker intently. “How long have you been able to manipulate people like that?”

Anakin shrugged. “I guess always… When I was younger, my Master would have me talk customers into sales. He said it was because I was young and cute, but I could usually convince the ones who weren’t even interested at all.”

“Your master… Jabba?”

“No, my previous Master; a Toydarian salvage shop owner. He owned my mother and me for about ten years.”

“And after that?”

“Watto bet against me in a podrace. He lost me to Jabba and sold my mother with me to avoid going bankrupt.”

Obi-Wan frowned at the casual way Anakin spoke about being owned and traded and sold. He couldn’t sense any shame or ire from her as she discussed her history. For all he could read from her, she was talking about previous employment or schooling, not being _owned_ as a slave. It was disturbing and saddening to know this was daily life for so many.

Suddenly, behind Anakin, the curtain moved and Obi-Wan saw a little head peek around the edge. It was a little girl, around three years old, with black hair that was mussed and tangled from sleep.  She met his eyes warily and Obi-Wan flashed a small, kind smile.

“Hello, little one.”

The child shrunk back and pulled the curtain over her face. Anakin stiffened and turned around.

“Ani?” the child asked quietly.

Skywalker beckoned her over and said a few words in Huttese. The child scurried over and curled up quite contentedly in her lap. Obi-Wan noticed that her wide blue eyes were the same color as Anakin’s as she shyly looked over the Jedi.

“My sister, Shila.” Skywalker explained while she smoothed down the child's hair.

"Hello, Shila, I am Obi-Wan and this is Quinlan." Obi-Wan's introduction was met with a blank stare until Anakin translated for her. Then the child muttered some words Obi-Wan could hardly hear and buried her face in Anakin's shoulder.

“She says 'hello',” Anakin explained with a small smile. “She doesn't know Basic yet, other than a few words and phrases.”

Quinlan looked somewhat confused. “If she's your sister, why does she call you ‘mother ‘?”

“Your translation’s a bit off,” Anakin explained, “she didn’t call me ‘mother’ … but I suppose I'm the only mother she's known.” She paused, and brushed her fingers through Shila’s hair. “Our mother was too old to have another child; she died in childbirth. I've raised Shila since birth."

"I'm sorry," Vos said solemnly. "How long ago was that?”

“Over three years ago.”

“Must have been difficult.”

“People die every day on Tatooine. Most of them are slaves.”

Obi-Wan found himself hiding a frown again. Women didn’t just _die_ in child birth anymore not … not in civilized systems with things like healthcare. And young girls didn’t just have to raise their newborn siblings without any aid. The Outer Rim was such a horrid place.

Skywalker shot him an amused glance. “You’re clearly not from around here, are you Obi-Wan?”

“I will admit I primarily work in the Mid Rim.”

“It shows,” Anakin grinned slyly. “You’ve been pulling faces all evening. I saw you in the lounge. You can always spot the newcomers.” Her smile fell and her face turned harsh. “What exactly _were_ two Jedi doing in a Hutt pleasure den?”

“Blending in,” Quinlan said.

“And attempting to buy me,” she finished dryly.

“That was to get your attention, and, if we were lucky, to get a chance to speak with you.”

“The people who throw the kind of money around that you do aren’t interested in talking.”

“You must not come across many Jedi.” Vos raised an amused brow. “That’s probably a good thing to hear.”

There was a pause when Shila nudged Anakin and muttered something to her. Anakin handed her a piece of food from her bowl. While the child gnawed on a piece of root vegetable, Anakin returned to staring down the Jedi.

“You said you sensed my presence… what does that mean exactly? How did you ‘sense’ me?”

“The Council did,” Obi-Wan said. “They are the wisest Masters of the Force and the heads of our Order. A few weeks ago they sensed a sudden upwelling in the Force out on Tatooine. Vos and I were sent to investigate.”

“But I’ve been on Tatooine my whole life. Why did they only sense me recently?”

“That I do not know. Most force Sensitives are born with a nascent awareness of their abilities. Infants will hover toys across the room to them, and such. But on occasion, a child will experience what we call an awakening. Something will happen to them and they will realize their powers. Oftentimes it’s a traumatic experience. Has… has anything happened to you recently, Anakin?”

She opened her mouth to say something, but stopped, reconsidered her words, and said “No. And I’m not a child either.”

“No, you’re not.” Obi-Wan rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“How old are you exactly?” Vos asked.

“Twenty-two.”

Obi-Wan could sense the half-truth in her statement and quirked a curious eyebrow. He was going to ask for further clarification, but Vos beat him to the punch.

“Is that in galactic standard years, or by Tatooine’s orbital?”

Skywalker bit her lip and looked down. “By Tatooine’s orbit. In galactic standard I’m nineteen… I think.”

 _By the stars_ , she was so young. Obi-Wan felt a surge of protectiveness well up inside him. No person that young should have been put through what he had seen her go through that evening. Except, he realized, she had probably been put through ordeals like that for most of her life. He met Quinlan’s eye and saw the Kiffar was thinking along the same lines, though he seemed much less shocked.

“You said the plan was to take me to Coruscant,” Anakin said after a moment of silence.

“When we realized you were a slave, we thought we could buy your freedom,” Obi-Wan began, but Anakin interrupted him with a shake of her head.

“Jabba would never allow that. He’ll never sell me. Not until I’ve served out my usefulness or I’ve died.”

“And that is why we wanted to talk to you.” Vos said. “To figure out how we can free you so we can bring you to Coruscant.”

“What about Shila? I’m not going anywhere without her.” Anakin’s arms tightened around her sister, who had dozed off in her lap.

“Shila will come as well.” Obi-Wan assured her. “Is your sister free?”

“No.” Anakin drew a deep breath. “Jabba owned my mother at the time of Shila’s birth, therefore Shila belongs to him. But, I’ve bartered an agreement with Jabba. Shila won’t be put to work and she won’t be sold.”

Obi-Wan was almost afraid to ask, but they needed to know as much as possible. “In exchange for what?”

“Anything he says. Complete obedience.”

“We might be able to smuggle you both off planet,” Obi-Wan hypothesized. His mind was already beginning to form a plan from the information.

“No you won’t. All slaves have a tracker embedded somewhere in their bodies. It’s rigged with explosives. They can be programmed to activate if a certain distance is breached. Or an owner can trigger them at will with the master controls.”

“How big are these trackers?”

Anakin held up her fingers a couple inches apart. Obi-Wan swallowed nervously, depending on the material, a charge that size could easily kill. At the very least, it would severely main the slave, depending on the location of the tracker.

“And all slaves have these trackers?”

“Once they’re old enough.” Anakin gently lifted up Shila’s shirt to show a bandaged wound on her abdomen. “They use bacta so there won’t be a scar.” She dropped the fabric and smoothed down Shila’s hair again. “She won’t remember where it is. If we are ever separated…” she trailed off and squeezed her eyes shut.

The two Jedi waited for Anakin to collect her emotions. The intense bond they sensed between Anakin and Shila felt akin to that between a mother and child. Obi-Wan supposed that a bond like that could form, considering Skywalker raised Shila from birth, but… there were a lot of similarities between the two. Aside from the hair, Shila looked almost exactly like Skywalker, right down to the blue eyes.

Something settled over Skywalker. Her jaw tightened, her brow furrowed, and when she spoke, it was with firm conviction. “I’m sorry. You’ve wasted your time.”

“What do you mean?” Vos asked.

“I’ve already taken a great risk bringing you down here. If they knew you were discussing freeing me they’d-“

“They’d what?” Obi-Wan prompted.

“I can’t take the risk. I’m sorry. You should go.”

“Anakin-“ Obi-Wan tried to argue, but she cut him off.

“Guards are already on their way.”

“Guards?” Obi-Wan realized he had become so focused on Skywalker that he had completely ignored the thrill of alarm rippling through the slave quarters heading directly towards them. He and Vos shot to their feet. “Anakin, please, we can help you. We can free you.”

The girl shook her head, and rose to her own feet, still cradling Shila against her. “I’m sorry. I will say what I must.”

With a crash, the door was kicked in. Shila woke with a scream. Half a dozen armed guards crammed into the small room, immediately leveling spears and blasters at the occupants. The Jedi raised their hands slowly and they were roughly pulled out of the hovel and marched away. Shila was ripped from Anakin’s arms by a guard. The child barely made a noise as she was carried off, and Anakin followed obediently with the remaining guards escorting her.

 

**00000  
**

 

Anakin didn’t move from the spot she had been shoved onto. She stood there, head bowed, staring at the sandy floor, waiting. She had been brought to one of Jabba’s review chambers; one typically reserved for private business and more personal parties, or doling out punishments. The Hutt liked to make a spectacle, but sometimes he would rather keep slave containment behind closed doors. It could be a messy business, after all. She was alone in the room, but she knew there were several Gamorrean guards outside the door. The Jedi and Shila were in a separate, nearby room, and Jabba himself was on his way.

When she heard his mass slithering on the other side of the door, she dropped to her knees just as the door opened. The Hutt entered alone, but Bib Fortuna joined the waiting guards outside the door.

“ _Are you causing trouble again, Skywalker_?” The Hutt’s voice was deep with disappointment.

“ _Not intentionally, Master._ ” Anakin said keeping her eyes trained on the floor.

“ _I know, my little Krayt Dragon._ ” Jabba stopped in front of Anakin and she dared to raise her eyes. He beckoned for her to stand up. She got to her feet, but kept her head bowed. “ _Now, tell me about these visitors.”_

_“They said they were Jedi. They made me take them to my quarters.”_

_“What for?”_

Anakin swallowed nervously. “ _They wanted to free me.”_

The Hutt made a discontented noise in the back of his throat. “ _Ani, Ani, Ani,”_ he sighed patronizingly, placing a hand on Anakin’s shoulder. “ _Always people are trying to steal you away from me.”_

_“I am loyal to you, my Master. I live to serve you.”_

_“No you don’t,”_ Jabba chuckled and moved to slither a slow circle around Anakin. “ _I know you would leave me in a heartbeat if you could.”_

Anakin had no civil response that wouldn’t get her punished, so she grit her teeth and held her tongue.

“ _My little Krayt Dragon, you know you are my favorite. I’ve never owned a slave who was half as lucrative as you.”_

 _“You flatter me, Master.”_ Anakin risked a small smirk. This was an exchange they’d had countless times; it had a familiar flow to it. However, in this situation Anakin was unsure of how freely she could act.

Jabba rumbled unhappily and Anakin’s smirk disappeared. Wrong move.

“ _Perhaps I do flatter you too much, Skywalker. You are growing awful bold for a slave.”_

Anakin swallowed her rising wave of fear and began to plead. “ _Master, please forgive me. I do not mean to overstep my bounds. I only wish to serve you.”_

Jabba waved his hand dismissively and turned his back on her. “ _You would kill me where I stand if you were able to,”_ he snapped.

“ _No, Master!”_ Anakin dropped to her knees again, pressing her forehead to the floor. “ _You own my very life. I am at your mercy.”_

_“You seem to keep forgetting that.”_

_“I am only a simple slave, Master. There is much to remember.”_

Jabba sighed again and ordered Anakin to her feet. When Anakin stood up, she saw that he had moved to his throne and looked down on her imperiously. This conversation was ending soon.

“ _You_ are _only a slave, Skywalker. Your mind cannot possibly comprehend the complexities of life beyond Tatooine. But even you should know such a basic rule as that.”_

Anakin nodded demurely and agreed. “ _I am grateful for your protection and kindness every day, Master, for myself and my sister.”_

_“And how do you show your gratitude?”_

_“With obedience, Master, and victories for your glory.”_

The Hutt smiled at that, greedy and slimy. “ _You did race well today.”_

Anakin bowed her head. “ _Thank you, Master, but I only raced as I was told.”_

_“It looked very convincing. That competitor almost won. Betting has increased tenfold with the Dug as a supposed challenger for the Boonta Eve Classic.”_

_“All due to your wisdom, Master.”_

The Hutt wasn’t placated, but he played the part. _“Sit with me, my Krayt Dragon.”_ Jabba beckoned her up to his throne. “ _We shall see what these would-be Jedi thieves have to say. And after that, I will decide your punishment._ ”

 

The little room they had been brought to felt more claustrophobic than it should have. It was Shila who made the room feel small. The child was projecting enough fear to make Obi-Wan and Vos feel anxious. She had curled herself up in the corner, keeping a wary eye on the pair of Gamorreans at the door and the Jedi in the other corner. Vos had tried to calm the child, but a warning snarled from the guard kept them in their respective corners.

Obi-Wan couldn’t begin to imagine what kind of life this child had lived to feel such abject terror at her young age. Obi-Wan projected feelings of calm and peace back to Shila, but she didn’t seem to be very receptive.

“So what’s the plan?” he whispered to Vos.

“If we’re lucky, I won’t have to talk a Hutt out of an execution. We may be able to glean enough information out of him to figure out how to get Skywalker out.”

“Skywalker won’t go anywhere without her sister.”

“I know. The child should be much easier to free than Skywalker.”

Obi-Wan frowned. “The Council won’t be happy if we pay a fortune to free a child who isn’t our main objective.”

“If it gets us Skywalker, the Council will approve of anything. You’ve sensed her; you know how powerful she is. The Council will want to see her personally.”

“Skywalker can’t join the Order. She’s far too old.”

“The Council will want to meet her.” Vos stated with firm conviction. “We need to get them both to Coruscant.”

Obi-Wan didn’t get a chance to comment further. Bib Fortuna marched into the room and uttered a couple sharp commands in Huttese. Shila shot to her feet and followed obediently.

“We’ve been summoned by Jabba.” Vos muttered, following the Twi’lek and their guards into the hall. They were led into a small room and brought before Jabba. The Hutt sat above them on another raised platform, and Anakin was perched before him. Her tunic had been removed, leaving her in only a thin tank top and her brown pants. The Hutt was absently stroking the bare skin of her arms. She hardly moved or even reacted when they were set before the throne, but Obi-Wan could feel her fear at seeing her sister.

Upon seeing her Master, Shila fell to her knees and bowed low to the ground. Obi-Wan looked to Quinlan for guidance in this situation. Vos straightened his spine and rounded his shoulders, Kenobi did the same. Obi-Wan had never been this close to a Hutt before, and he would gladly live out the remainder of his days never getting this close again. The Hutt was absolutely revolting, and that was without the horrid smell wafting from him, and the sadistic lust rolling off him in waves.

“ _So you are the scum who wish to rob me.”_ Jabba growled. This time, Bib Fortuna did the translating with his oily voice.

“We would never seek to rob you, exalted Jabba.” Vos said with a small apologetic bow of his head.

“ _Skywalker tells me you forced her to take you to her chambers.”_

“To speak to her privately, yes. We did not wish to disturb any other guests.”

“ _She told me you have come here to free her._ ” Vos kept quiet, sensing that the Hutt had not completed his thought. “ _You understand that Skywalker is not for sale. There is no price you can name for my most lucrative slave.”_

Vos nodded respectfully. “Yes, your eminence. We are quite aware of this.”

“ _And yet, you spoke to her about taking her away. You wanted to steal her.”_

“No, lord Jabba-“

“ _Then what were your intentions, Jedi scum? You cannot have my Skywalker.”_ At that, he pulled Anakin closer to him, like a possessive child with his favorite toy. Anakin’s face remained placid, but the Jedi could sense her deep revulsion as she was pressed against the Hutt.

Obi-Wan could see this conversation was going to get them nowhere. They’d be kicked out of the palace with no way to get in contact with Skywalker again. He had to step in before they lost all leverage. “What about her sister?”

The Hutt gave Obi-Wan an appraising glance. Vos cast him a curious sidelong glance. Anakin glared at him.

“ _What about the child?”_

“Truth be told, our interest in Skywalker was merely as a translator. Her sister is who we are truly interested in.”

“ _What interest do Jedi have in an untrained child? She cannot work, she knows no skills, and she does not speak Basic.”_

“We have sensed that she is strong with the Force. The Jedi Order, naturally, wants to take her to Coruscant and bring her into the Order. She should be raised amongst her own kind.”

By now, Anakin was glaring so harshly at Obi-Wan that he was almost certain his robes would catch fire from the intensity of her glare alone. He dared a glance to her, and hoped she would see something of the plan that was forming in his mind.

Jabba hummed thoughtfully. “ _What is the child worth to the Jedi Order?”_

“I believe the question is what is an untrained slave worth to you, mighty Jabba?”

The Hutt laughed, low and gravely, and lacking any mirth. “ _You are a cunning one, Jedi. Thieving scum, but cunning.”_  The Hutt looked down at the child, still in her bowed position on the floor. “ _Fortunately for you Jedi, she was born with a slave’s obedience.”_

Bib Fortuna then barked a command and Shila shot to her feet, standing stock straight and waiting for Orders. Obi-Wan glanced between the child, trembling in fear before her Master, and Anakin, shaking with barely contained fury. He wanted to say something to ease their worries, but he wasn’t negotiating with them. Jabba didn’t care that Shila would be freed if she went with the Jedi, or that she’s be raised safe and secure on Coruscant. Jabba was selling his property and obedience was a selling point.

“ _I have no need for a useless slave._ ” Jabba said after observing Shila for a moment. “ _She is a drain on my resources.”_

Obi-Wan hardly believed that a small child like Shila was much of a drain on anything. She couldn’t possibly eat or drink much, and without healthcare and schooling costs, where else would she cause losses. Still, he pressed on, sensing that the Hutt was growing warmer to the thought of selling the child. “We would gladly take her off your hands. Name your price.”

Anakin could no longer contain herself. “ _Master, please no!”_ She turned to face the Hutt, her hands folded at her breast as she knelt before her Master.

“ _Silence!”_ Jabba backhanded Anakin with enough force to send her tumbling off the throne and into the sand. Shila whimpered as her sister was struck, but didn’t dare move. Obi-Wan started forward, but Vos’ hand on his sleeve stopped him. They had to let this play out or else they would lose their chance.

Jabba growled down at Skywalker. “ _It is not your place to speak!”_

Anakin scrambled back up to the throne on her hands and knees. “ _Master, please!”_ she begged, tears were rolling down her cheeks and she pawed desperately at the Hutt.

Jabba made a disgusted noise and gestured to Fortuna. The Twi’lek removed Skywalker from the throne with a hark kick to her ribcage. Anakin fell into the sand and stayed there. The kick had shocked the breath from her lungs, but she continued to beg even as she gasped for breath.

“ _Master, please. I will do anything you ask. Don’t sell Shila! Please, Master! I will do_ anything!”

“ _Enough, slave!”_ the Hutt snapped. “ _I will do as I please. Your behavior today has not garnered you any favor.”_ He turned to face the Jedi. “ _You can have the child for five thousand wupiupi. Bring the money at dawn and we will complete the transaction.”_

Anakin’s desperation and pleading made the Jedi feel sickened to their cores, but they bowed deeply and thanked Jabba for his generosity.

“ _Now leave, before I change my mind._ ”

They hardly needed telling twice. The Jedi were hurried out of the room by guards, but they could feel Anakin’s hatred snapping at their heels like a massif. Obi-Wan hoped that whatever further punishment Jabba had in store for Anakin, it didn’t include hurting Shila. The child would still belong to the Hutt for a few more hours, and there was nothing they could do to protect her until they freed her.

They didn’t speak until they were in the room that apparently came with Quinlan’s VIP access.

“That was rough,” the Kiffar sighed, rubbing at his arms as if he was chilled. “I hope you have a plan Kenobi.”

“That depends. Do you have five thousand wupiupi?”

“Yes.

“Then I have a plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Thank you all so much for your support! The first 2 chapters got over 1000 hits in less than a month! This is so incredible!
> 
> Keep an eye out for the next chapter in which a plan unfolds and we get a heist! Woo!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two Jedi and a slave team up to stick it to the Hutts after a bit of a rocky start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the long delay. School and writing don't mix very well. But thank you so much to all who have commented, and even came back and asked when the next update would be. You were all very encouraging and I didn't want to keep you waiting any longer!  
> Hopefully the next chapter won't take as long to get posted, but I can't make any promises because college is The Worst.
> 
> CW for more slavery unpleasantness in regards to children

* * *

 

Dawn broke hot over Jabba's palace. After Obi-Wan had laid out his plan, the Jedi had managed to catch a few hours of sleep. Vos thought Kenobi's plan was risky, and hinged on a lot of small things that were out of their control going right, but it was their best chance to get Skywalker out alive. He had to laugh, Kenobi might deny his improvisational talent, but he was basically winging it when he negotiated for Shila and that worked out better than he expected.

A courier slave tapped politely on their door just as the second sun breached the horizon. He led the Jedi to an office where Bib Fortuna was waiting with a Mune. Vos thought he had the pompous air of a rich man's accountant. Had this been any other situation, the Mune would have been looking down his nose at the Jedi, but considering they were paying guests, he offered them a small, insincere bow.

"You have the credits?" Fortuna asked.

"We see the girl first," Vos shot back.

Fortuna pressed a button on the desk, and a moment later the door opened again. Shila was roughly pushed forward by the handler from the previous evening. She wore nothing but a chain around her wrists and was jerked to a halt by the handler. The poor child was rank with fear, but she kept her head bowed demurely and hardly trembled.

Quinlan sensed the shock well up in Kenobi, and his desire to cover the naked child. Vos knew it was customary to sell slaves naked, it made checking for any deficiencies easier, but it was a disgusting custom. He was going to make this as quick as possible.

Fortuna gestured to the child. "You can see she has been freshly chipped."

There was an old scabbed wound on Shila's side from the chipping. It was tinged with the telltale blue of Bacta, but on top of that, there were new, long scratches along her arms and legs. Claw marks?

"Where did she get those scratches?"

Fortuna curled his lip into a sneer. "You can thank her sister for those."

Quinlan nodded. "I've finished my inspection," he told the handler.  The handler threw a ball of fabric at the child before he unchained her. Shila hurried to pull the shift over her head, and still, she did not look up at the Jedi. The handler did not move to re-chain her.

Only after Shila was dressed did Quinlan pulled his VIP chip from his sleeve. "Five thousand, as agreed upon."

The Mune stepped forward, picking up a chip reader tablet from the desk. Vos handed the chip over, and they all waited in silence while the transaction processed. Fortuna signed first and then Vos signed, the Mune acted as a witness. The reader thought for a moment more and then returned the chip with a quiet _ping_.

"She's all yours." Fortuna said. "Now pardon me, I have other business I must attend to this morning." The Twi'lek swept out of the room, leaving the two Jedi standing awkwardly with the child they just purchased and her slavers.

"Yerk will retrieve her tracker control," the Mune explained, nodding to the handler.

"Actually," Obi-Wan said with a subtle wave of his hand. "I would prefer if he took us there himself."

"He will take you there, himself," the Mune said back, genially if blankly.

The handler furrowed a confused brow and opened his mouth to protest, but Vos beat him to the punch. "Show us to the slave trackers now."

Yerk's face went slack. "Follow me," he muttered before turning to the door.

Vos turned to Shila. She stared up at them now, wide eyed and apprehensive. He crouched down to speak to her. " _Come with us, Shila, we won't hurt you."_

The child nodded mutely and obediently followed. They followed the handler through the palace corridors and down a couple floors. Most paid them no mind, but Vos caught a few disdainful, mental curses thrown their way by the slaves they passed.

The handler took them exactly where they wanted to go. It was an unmarked door in an empty hallway – it could have been a broom closet for all an outsider knew. The slave chip controls were kept behind heavy locked doors, but Yerk was more than happy to show the Jedi what the pass code was. There was an armed guard waiting in the room, but his mind was easily swayed by Kenobi.

The room was rather large, and almost entirely filled with shelves and shelves of small boxy devices. A drone retrieved Shila’s control on command, and Yerk was even compliant enough to show the Jedi all the features of the controls – including how to deactivate the explosives.

Once the Jedi had all the information they needed, he ensured that the handler and the guard would remember nothing of their encounter with the Jedi. They returned to their room, control in hand, and locked the door securely behind them.

Throughout the whole ordeal, Shila had said nothing. She didn’t fidget or cough or make any kind of sound – an accomplishment for a child her age. She was afraid of the Jedi, but curious as well. She had a sense of cautious familiarity, as if she could sense their intentions. Maybe Kenobi’s gamble hadn’t been too far off. The child might be Force Sensitive. Not as strong as her sister, obviously, but still Sensitive.

Vos and Kenobi looked down at the child, standing in the middle of the room, waiting expectantly for orders. Again, Quinlan knelt down to her level, and held out the controls for her chip. “ _This is for you, Shila. You’re free now.”_

The child took the controls, still very confused. Of course, Vos had made sure to deactivate her slave chip and ensure that nothing could be done to reactivate it before he handed the controls over to a child. “ _Free?_ ” she asked uncertainly.

“ _Yes.”_

 _“I can go back to Ani?”_ Hope brightened the child’s eyes.

“ _Not yet,_ ” Vos explained gently but quickly before the hope could leave. “ _We are going to bring her to you. But you must wait here quietly.”_

The child beamed and nodded her head enthusiastically. “ _I can be quiet. If I’m quiet, I’ll see Ani?”_

 _“Yes, you’ll see her soon.”_ Vos smiled sadly. “ _Obi-Wan and I have to go find her. We need you to wait here. Okay?”_

_More enthusiastic nodding. “Okay.”_

_“Do you know where she might be?”_

Shila frowned, and looked down at the box in her hands. “ _Master sent Ani to the Pit for being bad.”_

_“Where is that?”_

_“Dunno.”_ Shila shrugged.

_“That’s okay, we’ll find her. Now you just sit tight, and wait here. I’m going to lock the door, don’t open it for anyone, okay?”_

_“Okay.”_ Shila sat herself down right in the middle of the floor. Vos almost told her to sit on one of the beds, or the couch, but he doubted the child would actually stay on the floor until they returned. She was only three after all.

 

Vos led Obi-Wan back through the palace, following the trail Anakin’s Force signature left behind. Shila had mentioned a ‘pit’ of some kind, obviously a form of punishment for slaves. If she was still there, there would probably be guards which meant they’d have to be creative to get Anakin alone. If she wasn’t… well they’d find her. They walked deeper into the sub-levels of the palace; places not meant for visitors. The corridors were cramped and ill lit, more sand piled in the corners and along the walls than anywhere else, and there were hardly any slaves around. Vos just had time to wonder what Anakin could possibly be doing in this empty section when they rounded a corner and found their quarry.

She was waiting for them. Her stunner sparked in her hand as she stared down the Jedi. Quinlan tensed, sensing the hostility rolling off her. Beside him, Obi-Wan eased into a subtle, defensive position.

“We’ve been looking for you,” Quinlan offered, knowing Anakin wasn’t going to want to talk.

She advanced, raising her weapon threateningly. “Give. Shila. Back!”

“We need to talk, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said gently.

“The only thing you _need_ to do is give me my sister back!” She waved the stun rod between them and Quinlan could feel the electricity raise the hairs on his arms as it passed. A shock from that would put them out for a good long while.

Quinlan raised his hands slowly. “Put that down, we don’t want to fight.”

“You give me Shila back, or you’re going to end up as rancor meat!” Anakin lashed out at Vos – faster than he expected – and he had to move defensively to avoid getting shocked in the chest.

He dodged her strike, hitting her wrist to knock the stunner loose. It fell to the sandy floor and he kicked it far away. Anakin was prepared for that though, and her left hand came swinging up and she managed to catch Vos in the face with her fist. _It hurt_!

Vos stumbled away a couple steps, his hand rubbing at his jaw. He was more than capable of taking a hit and rolling with it, but he had not expected there to be that much strength in Skywalker. She certainly didn’t look like she had that much muscle on her. He supposed he deserved the bruised jaw after underestimating her.

Obi-Wan had managed to grab one of Anakin’s wrists and tried to twist it behind her, but she kicked out at his shins and swung with her free fist. She missed, but Kenobi had to release her to dodge.  Anakin launched herself at Vos with a howl, her fists swinging to try and hit anywhere she could. He blocked what he could and took what he couldn’t while Kenobi snuck up behind her. He threw his arms around her, wrapping her in a tight hold across her chest and pinning her arms to her side. That hardly seemed to slow her down one bit. She kept fighting and struggling and Kenobi wasn’t going to be able to hold her for much longer.

“Come on, Anakin, we don’t want to hurt you.” Vos said, stepping closer to get a more secure hold on her. Anakin kicked out, aiming for his groin. Vos jumped back and barely avoided the kick. “Hey, fight fair!”

“Get fucked!” Anakin shouted. She sunk her teeth into Obi-Wan’s arm and then threw her weight forward, launching the Jedi over her back. He was thrown into Vos and they crashed to the floor in a winded heap. They were back on their feet in an instant. Obi-Wan barely moved out of the way before she kicked him in the head. Both Jedi fell into defensive positions again as they faced Anakin.

She stood with her fist ready, bouncing lightly on her feet. They had clearly underestimated her. She had been taught to fight, but clearly didn’t employ her skills very often. She was sloppy and out of practice, but, desperation was a strong factor when it came to combat. Vos could see her openings, he knew she would tire quickly, and eventually she would make a mistake. But if they beat her into submission, they’d lose any trust they had garnered with her – if there was any left after they’d bought her sister.

Vos shared a look with Kenobi, an unspoken plan sparked between them, and Vos nodded minutely. He lunged at Anakin first, a feint to distract her while Obi-Wan went in to try and catch her arms. They just needed her to stop fighting for two seconds so they could explain. Anakin fell for the feint, and Obi-Wan latched a vicelike grip onto her wrist. She tried to hit him, but he blocked the blow, and she tried to twist away, but he didn’t let go. Anakin rushed in close and drove her knee into Kenobi’s diaphragm.

With a wheeze, Kenobi lost his grip and fell to his knees. Vos hurried to grab Anakin, but she was still moving and he missed her by a hair. She stepped behind Obi-Wan and wrapped her arm around his throat in a chokehold. Kenobi grabbed at her arm, but couldn’t break her hold. After that kick, there wouldn’t be any air in his lungs, and his face was already reddening. He’d be unconscious in a matter of seconds. Vos pulled out his last resort.

He rushed forward, drawing his lightsaber and leveling it at Anakin. She froze and eyed the hot plasma blade, but her hold didn’t loosen.

“Let him go.”

Anakin growled, but opened her arms. Kenobi fell to his hands and knees, gasping for air. Anakin stepped back slowly, standing at her full height with her hands raised.

“Are you going to kill me now?” she hissed.

“We just want to talk.” Vos explained. He glanced to the side and saw Obi-Wan regain his feet, still panting and rubbing at his throat. “We were trying to find you to bring you to Shila.”

Skywalker gasped, her eyes widening, a horrified expression crossed her face. “Bring me to her?” she echoed weakly. Every ounce of fight left her and she fell to her knees, burying her face in her hands. “ _Shit!_ What have I done?”

“You thought we would take her away?” Obi-Wan asked. He looked up from examining his arm – the bite was bleeding a little, but not enough for concern.

“You _bought_ her!” Anakin cried. “I thought she was gone forever unless I could get her back.”

The Jedi shared a look, frowning at the despair rolling off Anakin. Vos finally deactivated his lightsaber and placed it back on his belt. “We said we were going to get both of you out,” he said. “Now come on, do you want to go see her?”

Anakin shot to her feet, wiping at her eyes with the heel of her hand. “You really mean it?”

Vos stepped aside and gestured for Anakin to lead the way. She hurried forward, explaining as she walked, “We’ll have to go the long way. We can’t be seen together or else Jabba will know and he won’t be nearly as forgiving a second time.”

They walked at a hurried, but not suspicious pace through small, cramped corridors – servant’s passageways, Vos realized; a whole series of passages mirroring the main halls so the slaves could travel unseen and without bothering guests. They stepped through a door into a large echoing chamber full of vile scents and a cacophony of cries. It looked, and smelled like a menagerie judging by the barred doors in the stone walls and the howls of varying creatures. They passed one pen that housed the Gualaar. They chewed placidly on some green hay, and Vos had to wonder how much it cost to feed them on this planet. Greenery such as that simply couldn’t grow here, it had to be imported.

“Stay clear of the rancor,” Anakin warned, moving to the far side of the path as they passed the largest door yet. “She’s brooding and territorial.”

Vos followed her closely and glanced through the barred door. He could see the rancor on the far side of a large pen. He’d never actually seen one of the beasts in person before, but he’d herd tale of their ferocity. He certainly wouldn’t want to be on the bad end of those massive claws. The rancor apparently took offense to his stare, because she growled and rushed across the pen, slamming into the barred door with a howl. Her claws slashed through the openings between the bars, but thankfully couldn’t reach very far. The beast huffed and stalked away, and Vos caught a glimpse of her two young, clinging to the underside of her belly, their eyes reflecting slightly in the dim pen.

“I guess even rancors can be protective mothers,” he mused aloud.

“Her keeper raised her from birth, and she won’t even let him near.” Anakin said, hardly stopping. “Not until her pups are weaned.”

They thankfully left the menagerie and its stink behind them quickly and walked their way back up to the guest areas of the palace. Anakin’s anxiety was almost palpable while Vos entered the lock code for the room. She hardly waited a heartbeat before rushing into the room.

Shila had curled up on one of the beds and fallen asleep, but she shot awake as soon as her sister entered the room. “Ani!”

“Shila!” Anakin ran to her and scooped her up off the bed, holding her close. She muttered rapid apologies and ‘I love yous’ to her sister in huttese while Obi-Wan locked the door behind them.

The Jedi waited patiently for the reunion to end and for Anakin to dry her tears and Shila’s. It only took a few minutes. Anakin examined the scratches she’d left on Shila and apologized profusely. Shila, in all the pragmatism of a small child, pointed out the smaller and lighter scratch lines she’d left on Anakin’s arms. Finally, after much hugging, Anakin sank onto the bed with Shila still wrapped securely in her arms.

“So you’re planning on freeing both of us? Do you really think you can do that? Jabba will never let me go.”

“We have a plan for that,” Obi-Wan said, taking a seat on the other bed opposite of the sisters. He began laying out the plan, and Anakin listened. It was obvious, after Obi-Wan had finished, that she did not like what she heard.

“Are you stupid or something? A plan like that is going to get us killed!” Anakin's arm tightened around Shila protectively.

Obi-wan seemed unsurprised by her doubt. “If you were anyone else, it wouldn't work. But Anakin you are strong with the Force and your reflexes are fast enough to keep you from harm.”

“It's a shitty plan.”

“It's the only way to secure your freedom.”

She paused, considering the plan again. “Even if it doesn't work, Shila's still free right? You'll make sure she's taken care of? You’ll take her away from this place and she’ll never have to come back.”

“You’ll both be coming to Coruscant with us.” Kenobi assured her.

“No, you have to swear that even if this doesn’t work you’ll get her away from here. If the plan fails or the Hutts catch on, if I can’t get out, you have to promise that you’ll keep Shila free. That she’ll never be a slave again!”

The Jedi shared a look. Shila wasn’t their target of interest; she was collateral that came with Anakin. But she was also a child, and leaving her to a life of slavery was cruel beyond all means, particularly when they’d already freed her. That certainly was not the Jedi way. There was never a question of whether Shila would be taken care of once they left Tatooine. But they weren’t going to leave Skywalker behind without trying everything.

“You have our word, Anakin.” Obi-Wan vowed solemnly.

Anakin breathed a huge, relieved sigh. “Your plan has issues and a lot of holes; you’ve assumed things that just won’t work.”

Vos nodded in agreement. “You’re more familiar with the palace workings than we are, Anakin. We’re relying on you to fill in the gaps and turn this into something that would actually work.”

Anakin paused, running over the plan in her mind. "You're going to have to leave the palace. VIP or not, you've already strained Jabba's hospitality. It would be best if you took Shila and left."

Obi-Wan rubbed at his chin thoughtfully. "Yes, it would be easier to sneak around without guards and others watching our every move."

"You'll still be watched. But much less suspiciously."

"Not if they think we've returned to Coruscant."

Anakin's jaw tightened and the Jedi sensed the flash of doubt and fear course through her. "That would be more convincing. Beyond that…" she drew a breath. “The three of us aren’t going to be able to pull this off without raising suspicions. I have friends I can get on our side, but talking them into it will take time. And I still have my duties to attend to for the day. There’s a lot of prep work for the Classic.”

Obi-Wan said, “Tell us when and where to find you after we make sure Shila is safe. We’ll be there.”

“There’s a garage where my podracer is kept on the south side of the palace. I have unlimited access. Will you be able to find it?”

“No problem,” Quinlan assured her.

“If you meet me there at midnight, I can sneak you back in.”

“Then we’d better hurry.” Obi-Wan stood up. “It might still be early, but time is rapidly falling away.”

“Right.” Anakin hugged Shila tight. " _I'll see you soon. I promise."_

The child smiled brightly, and she practically oozed hope and trust. " _Soon we'll be free_."

" _I hope so."_ Anakin pressed a kiss to the top of Shila’s head and let her go, setting her on her own two feet.

"We'll be back at midnight," Vos assured her, taking Shila’s hand. "Keep an eye out."

 

They had little trouble leaving the palace. Shila followed obediently, trying her best to contain her excitement. However, once they were clear of the palace and speeding towards Mos Espa, a stream of excited babble fell from her mouth. Vos answered her questions with amused patience. And even though Obi-Wan couldn't understand a word she said, he got the basic gist of the conversation. Children were children, be they slaves or Jedi younglings.

Shila fell quiet again as they entered the city, the crowds seemed to subdue her enthusiasm. They drove directly to the busy spaceport, even more bustling as the big race approached. They returned the rented speeder, made easily overheard conversation about looking forward to returning to Coruscant. Hopefully, to any onlooker it appeared that they were preparing to leave the planet. Obi-Wan sought out a vendor near the port and bought Shila a simple change of clothes while Vos settled up the docking fees and prepared the ship.

When that was all settled, Shila was whisked into the ship and they made their departure. They broke from the atmosphere and made a quick jump to the next start system. From there, they turned around and jumped back to Tatooine. They landed in another city, which was little more than a large spaceport. The three of them set out looking for the next piece of their plan. It would be foolish to drag Shila around for every step of the next couple days and even more so to leave her unattended on the ship. They needed a babysitter.

Compared to Mos Espa, Mos Eisely was practically deserted. There weren't many people out and those that were looked like sun scorched, sand blasted farmers. Still, in a place like this, there was always someone looking to pick up some extra cash for an odd job. They stepped into a cantina first. People shot them curious looks and eyed Shila, but said nothing. Vos went to interrogate the barkeep while Obi-Wan took Shila to a table in the back. Vos returned after a few minutes with three glasses of palli juice. Shila sipped hers carefully but enthusiastically.

"Any luck?" Obi-Wan asked before taking a drink.

"There's a place in town where unemployed young adults hang out. We should find someone there."

"Let's hope so. It's going to take most of the day to get back to Mos Espa. We can't spend too long here."

They finished their drinks in relative silence and then went searching for their unemployed youths. Hopefully one of them would be able to watch a child for a couple days. The building in question seemed to be an inn with a restaurant serving as its lobby – sandy and dusty as every other building on the planet. A group of teens to twenty-somethings occupied the far end of the bar and bantered quite cheerfully with the young woman who appeared to be working there. The group eyed the Jedi curiously, but only a slight lull in their conversation indicated that they were watching. The barmaid came over and greeted them cheerily as they walked up to the bar.

"Good afternoon gentlemen, what can I do for you?"

"We're looking for someone willing and able to watch after a child for a couple days." Obi-Wan explained.

The barmaid's eyes flicked down to Shila at Vos's side. "My sister might. Go have a seat. I'll send her over."

The Jedi took a table away from the group at the bar and watched as the barmaid spoke quietly to a young blond woman. This time the conversation in the group died and more than a few obvious and suspicious looks were thrown at the Jedi. The blond woman stood up and a man in his early twenties stood with her, taking her arm and muttering in her ear. She muttered something back, pecked him on the cheek, and detached his hand from her arm. She marched confidently over to their table and stood there with a stern look on her face and her hands on her hips.

"I don’t work for slavers."

Obi-Wan raised a curious brow. "What makes you think we're slavers?"

"Do you honestly expect me to believe she's your daughter?" The woman responded with a glower.

"We're Jedi, actually." Obi-Wan said.

"Jedi don't come out to these parts."

"Must be a miracle that we got out here then," Vos quipped sardonically. He shifted his robes just enough to flash his lightsaber for the young woman to see. The woman saw, but she wasn't impressed.

"What are two Jedi doing with a slave child then?"

"Former slave," Vos corrected. "We freed her this morning and we're working on freeing her sister as well."

"What do you need me for then?"

Vos explained. "Freeing her sister isn't going to be a matter of money. It would be dangerous to have Shila around while we take care of her sister."

The woman scoffed in the back of her throat but softened and sat in the free chair. "No slaver would care about 'danger' so you must be Jedi." She looked at Shila and asked in Huttese, " _Did these men free you?_ "

Shila smiled at the woman and explained in one excited breath. " _The nice Jedi freed me and they're gonna free Ani. And then we get to go to Coruscant and see the stars!"_

It was straightforward, completely guileless, and there was no hesitation or searching while the child tried to recall a rehearsed story. That convinced the woman more than anything.

"Alright, so what do you need me to do?"

Obi-Wan stepped in. "We need someone to watch the child for a couple days. We'll pay for food and lodging, and of course pay you for your trouble. If all goes well, we'll be back the evening of the Boonta Eve classic.”

“And if it doesn’t?” the woman asked.

“We’ll still come back for Shila.” Obi-Wan assured her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final day of preparations for the Jedi before the Boonta Eve. Pieces of the plan begin to fall into place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little short, but I've been trying to finish it for months now and I couldn't quite get it to work out. Buuut, finals are coming up and I am P R O C R A S T I N A T I N G. Funny how inspiration works like that.  
> Plus, I wanted to get an update out for May 4th.
> 
> Same warnings as previous chapters apply, general slavery unpleasantness, plus infanticide.
> 
> After the next chapter, I promise, we will be done with Tatooine.

* * *

 

 

Compared to the searing heat of day, the nights on Tatooine were blissfully cool, almost bordering on chill if the wind blew the right way. They were also pitch black. The sand seemed to completely absorb any star or moonlight and the Jedi stealing across the desert had to rely on the Force more than their other senses. They sidestepped rocks and moved swiftly and silently as easily as night born creatures, heading unwaveringly for the starless darkness against the night sky.

Why exactly Jabba’s palace had no eternal illumination, Obi-Wan had no bloody idea, but he doubted it was to save energy.

They approached from the south, near the base of the rocky plateau the palace sat upon. They were far below the body of the palace, probably close to the subterranean slave quarters. The Jedi hugged close to the wall, trailing hands across the rock to find a door in the dark. Suddenly, a muted sliver of light pooled out before them.

“Hurry up!” a terse voice called from the cracked open doorway.

The Jedi hurried forward, slipping through the door and into a dimly lit garage. “Took you long enough,” Anakin muttered. She slid the door closed behind them quickly and locked it before turning to raise the power on the lantern on the nearby workbench.

Obi-Wan checked his chrono, they were early, but given what exactly was at stake for Anakin, he’d forgive any snappish attitudes.

“Is Shila safe?”

“Yes, she is with a caretaker.” Obi-Wan said with a nod. “She’ll be quite alright for the next couple days.”

Anakin released a breath, slumping slightly against the mostly deconstructed pod engine behind her. “Good.” She straightened up again with a sharp snap. “We’ve got a lot to do, and not much time until dawn.” She crossed back to the work bench and pulled out two bundles of cloth from the lower shelf. The larger and heavier bundle she tossed to Vos, the substantially smaller one she threw at Obi-Wan. “Hurry up and get changed. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Wait a minute, what is this?” Obi-Wan said, unrolling his disguise. There wasn’t much to it; a wide length of rough spun, sandy colored fabric, a long white sash, and a couple of armbands.

Anakin shot him an unamused look. “You wanted to pose as a slave. It’s your uniform.”

Beside him, Quinlan stifled what may have been a laugh. Obi-Wan shot his fellow Jedi a semi-reproachful look, suddenly wishing he had also volunteered to pose as a palace guard as well.

“Get changed.” Anakin stated before disappearing through the doorway that lead back to the palace.

The Jedi shared a look before dutifully turning their backs on each other and shedding their Jedi robes. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure _why_ he was surprised that he’d be going shirtless. He had seen other male slaves around the palace and they were all mostly shirtless. He just assumed that if he was going to pretend to be a slave, Anakin would get him a uniform for one of the higher ranking slaves – one who got to wear a shirt.

At least his disguise was simple to put on. Judging by Quinlan’s mutterings on the other side of the garage, he was having difficulty figuring out which armor piece went where. The wrap was easy enough to figure out, it went around his waist, hitting just above his knees. The sash was another matter – it was almost twice as long as Obi-Wan was tall. He did his best to replicate what he’d seen on the other slaves – over the shoulder, around the waist twice, and knotted at his hip. It was more decorative than functional as a belt, but it made Obi-Wan feel a little better about the skirt’s security. The last thing he wanted was a wardrobe mishap. The past piece of his disguise was a pair of ill-fitting cloth shoes, secured with leather straps.

Obi-Wan had folded his robes neatly and helped Vos finish latching the armor plates to his back by the time Anakin returned. She had another slave with her, an older human man who carried a small metal case underneath one arm. “Let me see,” she demanded as an introduction.

Obi-Wan and Quinlan stood still for her inspection. She had a couple corrections of Vos’ armor, but she hardly had to look at Obi-Wan before she found a problem.

“Your sash is wrong.” She stepped close, her fingers pulling at the knot of fabric on his hip. Obi-Wan tried to protest and insist that he was capable of untying the knot himself, but Anakin smacked his hands away. “Do you want to get caught?” she asked, tugging the last loop from the knot. It fell loose and with another sharp tug she pulled the sash off Obi-Wan completely.

He decided it was in his best interest to not argue.

Anakin folded the fabric over itself lengthwise and tossed it over Obi-Wan’s other shoulder, she added a twist as she looped the sash around his waist, left it flat against the other hip, and then tied it into a simple, but more decorative knot. She stepped back to eye her work and gave an approving nod. “Kapp will get you shaved.”

“What? Shaved?” Obi-Wan gasped, his hand flying up automatically to his cherished beard. He’d just gotten it trimmed up before this mission. It was exactly the way he wanted it.

Anakin shrugged. “No body hair on slaves. You get the hair on your head and that’s it.” She looked between both of the Jedi. “You’re both going to have to shorten your hair. Vos, yours can’t show under your helmet. Kenobi, yours is too long for a new slave.”

“But-“ Obi-Wan ran a hand through his hair. He’d been working on growing it out in a style the Masters preferred. It made him appear older, wiser, and the politicians he tended to deal with in his assignments respected an older and wiser looking Jedi. Vos was also looking rather torn about the prospect of cutting his hair. He had pulled one lock forward over his shoulder and was toying with the end in an almost mournful fashion. He’d been growing out his dreadlocks ever since he became a Knight. They were a great source of pride for him. They frowned together, looking to each other for strength.

It was only hair. It would grow back. Freeing Anakin was worth a shave and a haircut. It was for the mission. Obi-Wan fortified himself, nodded and said, “Well, let’s get this over with,” in a much more careless voice than he really felt.

Kapp lead Obi-Wan off to a corner of the garage where a stool stood waiting. He pulled an ancient set of electric clippers from the box, but when he turned them on they buzzed like well-oiled machinery. He held his tongue while Kapp shaved constantly reminding himself that his hair would grow back.

 

Nearly an hour later, Obi-Wan was beardless, nearly hairless on his head, and completely hairless everywhere else. When Anakin said slaves had no body hair, she meant it. Obi-Wan was shaved everywhere that was exposed, his arms and legs, his underarms, his chest and back. He felt even more naked in his slave disguise.

Vos hadn’t taken nearly as long to trim up, though he was missing about six inches of hair. He’d been watching Anakin work on her podracer, helping where he could, but mostly keeping out of the way. The pod had to be in perfect condition for their plan to work, and having an inexperienced mechanic unintentionally muck something up was a fast road to disaster.

Anakin gave a small, approving smile when Obi-Wan and Kapp joined them. “I hardly recognize you now.” She turned to Kapp and spoke with the old man for a minute in Huttese. Obi-Wan had grabbed a translator earpiece from their ship before returning to the palace. It wasn’t perfect, but he was able to understand Anakin’s gratitude to the old slave. Kapp clapped her on the shoulder, smiling warmly and gesturing with his free hand – signing something that Anakin understood. She thanked him again, repeating one of his hand signs back to him. Kapp left in the same silence he’d maintained the entire time.

Alone again, Anakin turned to the Jedi with her arms crossed tightly. “I’ve worked it out so it won’t look too suspicious with the two of you following me for the next couple days. With the Boonta Eve approaching, most of my time will be spent here or running the course.”

Obi-Wan nodded. Most of their time-sensitive items couldn’t be collected until the day of the race in the first place. “What do we do until then?”

“Stay close to me. Stay out of trouble.”

 

The passed the next few hours assisting Anakin with her pod. Obi-Wan and Quinlan were far from unskilled with mechanics, but Anakin was several classes beyond them. She had built the pod herself from the ground up. She had done so with all her pods ever since her second season with the Hutts. Her handler had insisted she use another engineer’s pod and a massive malfunction had nearly killed her and caused a massive financial loss for the Hutts. Since then, they had allowed her to handle her own mechanics.

She put her engine back together, and ran it through a couple if small tests before she declared it was fine. By this point, the suns had risen and life had stirred in the Palace again. “We’ll go eat,” she said, wiping her hands clean with a heavily stained cloth, “After; you’ll accompany me for my duties. This afternoon, the pod will be transported to the track garage; you’ll come with me to complete the final preparations. And then tomorrow…” Anakin trailed off, unwilling to voice her hopes.

“Tomorrow you’ll be free.” Obi-Wan offered.

“If your crazy plan works.” Anakin shook herself and moved to the door, motioning the Jedi to follow.

They wound through the corridors of the Palace to a busy hub of motion in the early hours. The kitchen was a flurry of activity; slaves moved through quickly, taking their allotted ration of food and water; cooks threw together various dishes, significantly more substantial than the slaves’ rations, and plated them up; other slaves took the plated dishes and disappeared into service passages to feed Palace guests. Anakin pushed through the crowd, leaving the Jedi to wait in a corner. She returned a minute later with three small loaves of bread, small bowls of roasted vegetables, and flasks of water.

“With me,” she muttered, leading them out of the busy kitchens and into another room. It was large and unfurnished, but slaves sat on the floor, quickly eating their meals and conversing quietly. A ripple of murmurs followed Anakin through the room, but she ignored them and headed for a clear corner. They were left alone, and in quiet mutterings, Anakin and the Jedi walked through the plan one more time.

They had nearly finished the meal, when a commotion started on the far end of the crowded room. Anakin’s name was called, and several people pointed in their direction. A boy of about eight or nine pushed through the crowd and hurried over. “ _Ani, Ani! They’re taking him! They’re taking him!_ ” the boy babbled, near hysterics.

Anakin was already on her feet, apparently knowing what the boy meant. “ _Take me_ ,” she insisted, letting the boy take her hand and pull her away. The Jedi followed quickly, and the slaves were quick to clear a path. They raced back to the slave quarters where a small crowd had gathered around one doorway. Desperation rolled out of the room like a thick smoke, and above the noise of the slaves, Obi-Wan could hear a woman screaming and a baby wailing. Guards kept the slaves back from the doorway, but they allowed Anakin through when she issued a terse command.

A young Togruta woman was the cause of the commotion, by the length of her montrals she was probably near Anakin’s age. She fought desperately against two guards, holding her back from a third. She clawed and scratched and screamed, doing anything within her power to get to the wailing newborn in the third guards arms. The Togruta’s son, if his matching red skin and yellow montrals were anything to go by. A handler, a different man than Anakin’s handler watched the display unimpressed.

Anakin gestured sharply for the Jedi to stay back near the doors and approached the group slowly. “ _What’s going on?”_ she asked the handler.

“ _Master’s orders,”_ the handler said in a cold, detached voice.

“ _Master said I could keep him!”_ The Togruta screamed. “ _Master said I could keep him!_ ”

Anakin swallowed a wave a grief and approached the woman. “ _Elora, it’ll be alright.”_

 _“Master said I could have him!”_ Elora sobbed, she slumped in the grip of her guards, the fight leaving her.

“ _I know, Elora. Master says many things.”_ Anakin gestured to the guards holding the Togruta. They hesitantly released their hold on her. Elora lunged forward and crashed right into Anakin. She was ready for the move, and after a moment of grappling, she had turned the woman around, and dragged her down to the floor. Elora clung to Anakin desperately, burying her face in the crook of her neck and sobbing. Anakin held her close, running a comforting hand over the back of Elora’s head while the Togruta wept. “ _Tell me about him_ ,” she told the Togruta. “ _What is his name?_ ”

“ _Shandex. My precious, perfect Shandex, my baby boy. Master said I could keep him.”_ Elora just continued repeating that last statement over and over again.

Anakin held her tighter, tears gathering in her eyes. “ _Shandex will be free._ ” Anakin whispered to the distraught Togruta. “ _Shandex will be free now, Elora._ ”

She looked to the handler and nodded imperceptibly. He produced a hypo and plunged it into the wailing baby’s chest. Obi-Wan hadn’t realized what was happening until it was too late. His heart stopped with the baby’s. He felt Quinlan grip his arm tightly; the Kiffar looked as sick as Obi-Wan felt.

In the sudden absence of the baby’s cries, his mother’s heartbreak was only more painful. Anakin did her best to soothe the mother, pushing intentions of sleep and rest onto her, but the Togruta was resistant to Anakin’s efforts. The guards filed out of the room with the handler, taking the baby with them. The crowd of slaves dissipated quickly with some barked commands from the handler.

Unable to just stand there and watch any longer, Obi-Wan hurried forward, crouching beside the two women. Anakin had tears flowing freely down her cheeks. “Can you help me calm her?”

Obi-Wan lay a hand on the Togruta’s shaking shoulder, unmeasurable grief and pain flooded onto him, but he pushed it aside and sent back feelings of peace. After a long moment, the weeping stopped, and the Togruta fell to stillness. Obi-Wan stepped back from the two and helped Anakin move the catatonic Togruta to her bed pallet. The boy from earlier had returned with the same elder Twi’lek who had been watching Shila. She hurried over and knelt by the Togruta’s bedside, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. She exchanged a few mournful whispers with Anakin before promising to watch over Elora.

Obi-Wan had retreated to stand back with Vos. “Did you know that the Hutts…” he couldn’t finish the question, just the thought of it made him want to be sick.

Quinlan shot him a hollow eyed look. “I knew the Hutts controlled their slave population but… I’d never seen how they did so.”

They fell silent as Anakin joined them, but she could read their unease. “That was exceptionally cruel of my Master,” she muttered darkly, marching past them at a swift pace. The Jedi hurried to follow. She said no more until they reached the solitude of her pod’s garage.

The Jedi could sense the emotions flowing through her; anger, grief, and fear – a toxic mix, but fleeting in the young woman. She drew a deep breath, and stilled her shaking hands. “We have a schedule to keep,” she said tersely, moving to pack up her tools for the transfer to the track garage.

“Anakin…” Obi-Wan needed an explanation.

The woman fell still. She spoke softly and in a shaking voice, “Family is everything. It’s the only thing we ever have that is our own.” Anakin took a deep breath, and continued in a steadier, but colder voice. “Master rarely allows slaves to breed, but it’s cheaper to terminate than it is to prevent. If he allows a slave to carry to term, it is because she is non-essential and the time lost from her service is worth the price of a new slave.”

“That’s absolutely tyrannical.”

“That’s the life of a slave.” Anakin turned away, wiping tears from her eyes before returning to her packing. “A slave who can’t accept reality loses her mind.” She threw the last few tools into the pack. “If it would ease your pain; the poison is fast, he didn’t suffer.”

Obi-Wan drew a long breath, remembering Jedi teachings. _We should rejoice for those who have joined the Living Force_. Maybe… maybe it was better for the child to be free in the Living Force than to face a lifetime of slavery. As many times as he recited it in his mind, he didn’t quite believe it.

 

The remainder of the morning passed without further incident. The Jedi followed Anakin around the Palace as she completed her duties for the morning. Anakin had little trouble finding excuses to show the Jedi the places they’d need to go the next morning. Whenever anyone asked, she said that Obi-Wan was a new slave, a mechanic brought in to assist with her pod; Vos was a guard assigned to her to ensure her protection until the race. They were allowed to move about undisturbed.

Obi-Wan felt a greater sense of urgency settle over him as the hours ticked away and they prepared for their mission.  Once business was set in the Palace, Anakin took them to the track garage. They were under closer watch outside of the Palace, but Quinlan was able to sip away and make the necessary preparations.

That night, they slept little. Anticipation made even the Jedi restless. Anakin was a mess of nerves. To stay calm and collected, they went over the plan again and again until dawn broke.

It was the morning of Boonta Eve. Only hours separated Anakin from her freedom.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crazy plans come to fruition and we finally get off this stupid, awful, sandy hellhole!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh Summer, the season of no school responsibilities.  
> No more finals, so hopefully no more broken brains thinking "houses" is a proper substitution for "hours". (If I did do something stupid like that again, please point it out. Sometimes I miss the most obvious things)  
> I hope you all enjoy this chapter, and more importantly, I hope you're as happy as I am to get the fuck away from Tatooine! We should have a few pleasant chapters coming up now to wash away all of the icky crap from Tatooine.

* * *

Excitement and anticipation hung thick over the podracing arena. Quinlan wasn’t letting it get to him, but he’d be lying if he said his palms weren’t a little sweaty. Kenobi was with Anakin, playing his role as her assistant for the last few moments. All of the pieces were in place, now it was time to let Kenobi’s plan play out. Whether it was crazy or genius would stand to be determined at the end of the day.

So long as Skywalker got out alive, it would all be worth it.

He watched from across the garage as Skywalker’s handler issued her some final instructions. He handed over her earpiece to feed her instructions during the race. Anakin moved mechanically, almost unnaturally. Her nerves were eating her alive, and her mind was on a thousand other issues than the upcoming race. Vos was afraid her handler would find her behavior suspicious and blow their whole plan wide open before it could really kick off. Anakin was not a naturally gifted actress; her emotions were all over her face.

Apparently, the handler found nothing unusual with her behavior. He clapped Anakin on the shoulder, his hand lingering, issuing a final command. Vos could feel the revulsion curling through Anakin at the contact even from a distance. The handler gently tweaked Anakin’s ear, leered at her, and then disappeared.

As the minutes ticked away, Vos eyes the other racers in the garage. There were fewer racers than in the preliminary race, but larger prep teams. He spied the young Dug from the other day; snapping commands and making final adjustments to his new, larger pod. Clearly he had found a sponsor who saw the promise in him, provided him with a better pod, and paid the entrance fee. Not an unusual occurrence. The preliminaries were mostly held for the betting opportunities, and to weed out the racers who can’t even finish a race with their pod intact. The Dug was simmering with pent up frustration and kept shooting withering glares across the garage bay to Anakin’s team.

He’d have to be watched carefully.

The call went out for the racers to get ready for the opening procession. Anakin and her entourage fell into position with the other racers – again she would be the last racer to take the field. Her Gualaar lowed passively to the Eopies pulling other pods. The flag bearing slaves chatted amongst themselves, making final adjustments to their inadequate costumes and fixing smudged make up. To them it was just another race, another day, another performance to please their Master. There wasn’t much at stake.

The same couldn’t be said for the others in the arena. Nearly everyone had made wagers; many putting most of their financial worth on the outcome of the race. Engineers and mechanics were staking their careers on the performance of the pods. Team owners’ livelihoods depended on the racers. Racers were putting their very lives on the line. There were no holds barred in the Boonta Eve Classic.

The tension could be cut with a knife.

Obi-Wan had been separated from Anakin and her entourage; he hovered awkwardly near the pit crew, but largely ignored them as they ignored him. One of the slave girls turned to Anakin and gave her hands a reassuring squeeze while they murmured some words to each other.

The muted sound of a brassy fanfare reached Quinlan’s ears and the procession of racers began. Obi-Wan disappeared from the pit. Quinlan turned his eyes to the vidscreens and settled in to wait for his cue.

Anakin was given a rousing ovation as she entered the field. She plastered a smile on her face and waved to her adoring fans. Her movements were still jerky and it was clear her mind wasn’t on making the audience love her, but they chanted her name all the same. The camera’s kept a close-up on her face as she turned to the Hutt’s box and bowed deeply for her Masters.

Jabba crawled up to the waiting microphone and appraised the massive crowd with a satisfied smirk. He gave a brief speech and the racers climbed into their pods. Something almost like silence fell over the crowd, taking the roar down to a low buzz. It was quiet enough that Vos could hear the pod engines revving from his corner of the garage.

A blaring tone rang out. The starting bell.

The pods launched off at breakneck speed, and after the initial jockeying at the starting line, Anakin took the lead. Her competitors were close on her tail, the Dug dogging her rather persistently.

The racetrack had been changed from the preliminary and from the practice runs they had run the previous day. It was longer, and a series of detours routed the track in a new way, but certain elements remained the same. There was still the tight canyon pass and the wide field of rock slaloms.

Anakin’s skill with the pod was not diminished by the stakes of today’s race. She handled the first lap of the race nearly flawlessly, creating a wide margin between her and her competitors. Even the Dug fell behind, but he remained firmly in second place, keeping other racers back.

Kenobi reappeared just as she crossed the line, clothes changed again. “How’s she doing?” he asked, settling the cap of his newest disguise over his head.

“All according to plan,” Vos muttered quietly.

Special, for the race today, Jabba had insisted on fitting a camera into her cockpit to stream constantly to her fans throughout the entire race. She was present in a little box in the corner of every single viewscreen. While her helmet covered her eyes, her mouth was set into a hard, determined line.

The audience loved it.

There was a thrill of concern amongst the spectators as Anakin’s left pod engine began to smoke and spark. It hardly registered as a frown on her face as she hurried to correct the malfunction. She fixed it in a matter of seconds, but it slowed her down and the Dug caught up to her. He did not waste any time trying to get Anakin out of his way.

Anakin scowled at him as he bounced his pod off of hers. She maneuvered to retaliate, not allowing the other racer to push her around. If it came down to a shoving match, the Dug’s larger pod would win. If it was up to speed and skill, Anakin could easily beat him.

Somehow, they had made it through the first lap of the race without any crashes. A race like the Boonta Eve Classic promised crashed, explosions, and even injuries or death. The crowd was beginning to thirst for carnage. They watched like ravenous beasts as the bumping became more aggressive.

Was Skywalker to be the first crash of the race? Nobody could hold a flawless record for forever, and there were more than a few who had bet against her in a burst of cynical hope to watch the champion fall.

Still scowling, Anakin made a quick adjustment to her power output. She shot ahead of the Dug as he prepared to hit her again. For a moment, it appeared as if the Dug had swung too far and he would spin out of control, but he had learned from the preliminary race and corrected his course quickly. The Dug put on another burst of speed and caught up to Anakin. He rammed her from the side, hard enough to knock the camera loose.

Anakin wasn’t prepared for his hit. Her struggling left engine began to spark and smoke again with renewed vigor. She couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe. She struggled to maintain control of her podracer. The skewed angle of the cockpit camera barely caught the panicked look on her face before she threw her arms up in an instinctive attempt to shield herself a split second before the pod crashed headlong into a boulder.

Quinlan’s mouth went dry as he watched Anakin’s pod become enveloped in a fiery explosion.

 

**00000**

Anakin lay as far away from the flames as she dared. She knew there would be cameras circling the crash site like vultures, capturing any gruesome detail they could for the crowds to devour.

The race was lost.

There would be riots in the streets tonight.

Jabba would be furious.

Anakin Skywalker _did not_ lose podraces.

She was glad that Shila was safe and out of the Palace.

She kept her face pressed into the sand, looking to the world as if unconscious, if not dead. She was careful not to move, not until she knew it was safe. She was almost certain she was out of the cameras’ scopes, but it wasn’t worth the risk of moving. Over the roar of the flames, she could hear the other racers screaming past in their pods. It would only take a minute for the racers to clear the area, and then the emergency crews would descend.

She took mental stock of her injuries. She was sore, there were new pains, but they were dull, and fading. Nothing broken, all limbs attached. She was alive. Probably the best outcome of Obi-Wan’s crazy stunt.

The wind picked up and sand blew across Anakin for a moment before the engine of the emergency transport cut off.  Boots crunched through the sand and a hand fell on her shoulder, hesitant, afraid to move her.

“Anakin?”

“Can I move now?” she muttered.

“You’re out of view. It’s safe.”

“Good.” Anakin rolled onto her back and sat up stiffly. She might not have been thrown from her crashing pod, but jumping out hadn’t exactly been gentle on her body. She might not have broken anything, but she’d definitely bruised a rib or two.

“Stay low, get onto the transport,” Vos instructed, helping her into a crouch. He gently pushed her towards the transport, but stayed behind, putting on a show of searching for Anakin in the wreckage.

The back of the transport was opened and Obi-Wan was waiting anxiously with an implant scanner in hand. Anakin hurried in, shedding the protective leathers of her racing uniform as she went. “Where is the implant?” she asked.

“Your left shoulder blade.”

Anakin finished removing the tight leathers and shrugged her loose tunic off her shoulders. “Get it out.” She ordered. “We don’t have long until the flames reach the fuel cells.”

Obi-Wan spent a moment prodding the area. Anakin felt something press against her skin from the inside. He wiped something wet and cool across the spot, and then, with only a quick, “This may sting,” he cut into her shoulder with a scalpel. Hot blood flowed down Anakin’s back and she grit her teeth and Obi-Wan dug into the cut with an instrument.

“Got it!” Something sticky was hastily slapped across Anakin’s shoulder. She pulled her shirt back over her shoulders and turned to see Obi-Wan holding the tracker. They turned to the second berth in the transport and the shrouded form lying there. Obi-wan hesitated, but Anakin held no qualms.

“Help me turn her.”

The woman had died a few days ago. She had been an old slave; once a prized singer and escort, aged out to a kitchen slave decades ago, a lung infection had killed her. Nobody knew what her given name had been; everyone had known her as Dawn’s Song.

Dawn’s Song had been the only human slave waiting for cremation when they’d collected the body – all three of them had averted their eyes from the impossibly small shrouded body of the Togruta infant. Slaves were only cremated once a week. Decay was slow on Tatooine.

This part hadn’t been in Kenobi’s plan, but Anakin knew that without a body to recover, the Hutts would know she had survived the crash and that she had escaped. They’d never even make it off planet. Shila would be found and killed, or worse, sent back into slavery without her sister to protect her.

The Jedi had been hesitant to include this in the plan. They held moral oppositions to desecration of a body. Anakin didn’t like it either, but she took charge of any dealing with the body. At this point, she was willing to do anything to gain freedom for Shila and herself.

They turned the woman facedown. Anakin took the scalpel from Obi-Wan. “Show me where to cut.” He pointed to an area in the lower quadrant of the shoulder blade. Anakin made the cut and then took the tweezers with the tracker and slipped it into incision. Then she hurriedly pulled some of her racing leathers onto the woman.

“How’s it coming?” Vos called out, hurrying to the transport. “Those flames are getting awful big.”

“We’re ready.” Anakin was pulling on an emergency crew jacket and shoved a spare cap over her head. She turned to Obi-Wan once she was dressed. “Make the call.”

Vos helped her carry the woman out of the transport and carried her as close to the burning wreckage as possible, laying her gently on the ground. Distantly, she heard Obi-Wan speaking into the comm, asking for assistance. They could not reach the body. They needed fire suppression. Quinlan paused for a moment, focusing intently, and the woman’s body lifted an inch off the ground and hovered into the heart of the flames. Anakin paused, silently thanking her fellow slave for this sacrifice and reciting the most important rites. Then, drawing a deep breath, she looked to Vos and said, “Blow it up.”

The Jedi made a subtle gesture, metal screeched, a line fell loose, opening the fuel tank. The flames eagerly licked at the hose and found their way to the fuel tank. They hurried to their feet and stepped into view of the cameras, still pretending to search for the body. Vos pointed at the mangled cockpit just as the fuel cells exploded. Even though they were braced for the explosion, it knocked them off their feet.

Though her ears were ringing, Anakin could hear more emergency transports approaching. Quinlan shepherded her to their own commandeered transport, making a show of acting like she had been injured. Her aching ribs made the show look extra convincing. She hurried into the back, and the door closed just as the other crafts touched down.

“Did it work?” Obi-Wan asked quietly.

Anakin nodded mutely. Her heart was pounding in her ears, she couldn’t catch her breath. Outside she heard Vos tell the others that his partner had been injured and he was taking him back for treatment. Above her gasping breaths, she heard the actual emergency crews send them off.

“Hold onto something,” Voss called back to them as he slid into the pilot’s seat.

The transport lurched as it took to the air. Obi-Wan offered Anakin a reassuring smile. “We did it, Anakin. You’re free.”

Anakin knew she wouldn’t be free until Shila was in her arms and they were off planet, but she didn’t argue.

Back in the garage, nobody paid any mind to the commandeered emergency transport, nor the three beings who scurried out. All eyes were on the vidscreens.

The flames were nearly extinguished. The emergency crew was pulling a badly burnt body from the wreckage. Hardly a soul dared breathe as the crew carried the body into the transport. The rest of the race had been nearly forgotten. The second lap wasn’t even complete. But without Anakin in contention, it was now anyone’s race. The Dug seemed determined to make it his.

The trio had almost cleared the garage when the confirmation came through. Anakin Skywalker was dead.

The uproar was immediate. The podracing legend couldn’t _die!_ There had been far too much money bet on her for her to die in a pod crash.

Nobody paid attention to the three emergency workers making a hasty retreat. A half mile from the stadium, a small skyhopper waited in a tiny port. A literal piece of junk that would only serve to get them out to Mos Eisely, but it served its purpose. The Jedi shed their disguises and changed back to their robes while Anakin flew them out to the distant city. She didn’t need Obi-Wan to direct her to a landing space. She knew in her heart exactly where Shila was. She had always been able to know where Shila was.

She hardly kept her pace reserved to a brisk walk as she and the Jedi moved from the small port to the inn where Shila was being kept. As they approached, a young woman stepped out from the shade of the doorway, and a much smaller form pushed past her impatiently.

“Ani!” Shila sprinted for her sister as fast as her little legs would carry her.

Anakin’s heart skipped a beat as she stumbled forward, racing towards her sister. “Shila!” She closed the distance in a few steps, scooped her sister up and held her tightly.

A sob bubbled up in her chest, and escaped with a small gasp, another followed soon after, and another. Tears streamed down her cheeks as reality hit her. Shila was safe. They were free.

They were really free.

Anakin never thought she would live to see the day.

 

**00000**

 

Beru Whitesun watched the reunion with a wistful smile playing across her lips. Shila had done nothing but sing the praises of her sister Ani for the last few days. From what she had said, Ani had made an effort to make her sister’s like as a slave child as free as possible. Quite the feat for a Hutt’s slave. Whoever this Ani was, she was either a miracle worker, or extremely devoted. Beru had to admire the young woman for what she could only imagine the slave had to go through to keep her sister safe.

Beru had honestly harbored doubts about the Jedi’s ability to follow through with their plan. Jailbreaking a slave from the Hutt’s control was unheard of, and believed to be impossible. She knew they’d come back for Shila, she didn’t think they’d actually have her sister with them.

Needless to say, she was quite joyed to see the sisters reunited; even if one of the sisters was a walking corpse – according to the latest reports.

“I’m glad to see things went according to plan,” she said to the Jedi as they joined caught up to the sisters. She noted, curiously, that they were clean-faced and sported much shorter haircuts. Must have been an interesting plan of theirs.

“As good as we could have hoped,” the Kiffar said with a small smile. “Was Shila any trouble?”

Beru smiled weakly. “I’ve never watched an easier child.” Her smile fell as a roar of noise and laughter came from the inn behind her. “You should go quickly. Nobody else should see that Anakin Skywalker is still alive.”

Vos frowned slightly at her and dug a handful of money from a pouch at his belt. “For your discretion,” he said, holding out the money.

“That’s not necessary,” Beru said with another smile. “I actively avoid interaction with the Hutts.”

“Then consider it a bonus.”

Knowing the Jedi wasn’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer, Beru held her hand out for the money. “You should probably leave before people start heading home.”

“Thank you again,” the Kiffar said, clasping Beru’s shoulder before turning away.

The other Jedi was already steering Anakin and her sister in the direction of the spaceport. The woman had stopped sobbing so desperately, but she still refused to let her sister go. The child hardly seemed upset at this. Beru couldn’t help but wonder if the last couple days had been the longest the sisters had gone without seeing each other.

 

**00000**

 

The Jedi’s ship was one of the most luxurious ones Anakin had ever laid eyes on. She stared wide-eyed as they walked up the ramp. “With a ship like this, you actually might have been able to buy me from Jabba.”

Obi-Wan smirked, feeling light and playful as they made a successful getaway. “This ship is just on loan from a friend. We will return it before we head for Coruscant.”

“And where is that?” Anakin asked, brimming with cautious curiosity.

“Naboo.”

“Never heard of it.”

Obi-Wan smiled gently. “It’s a Mid Rim planet, very beautiful, lush and green. I think you’ll really like it there.”

Anakin returned his smile hesitantly. “I’ve never been off planet,” she admitted quietly.

Obi-Wan thought about the harsh wasteland of Tatooine and realized that to Anakin and Shila, Naboo would probably be paradise. He couldn’t think of a better place to be their first new planet.

They gathered in the spacious cockpit of the luxury yacht and Vos took the pilot’s seat. Anakin watched in tense silence as the ship rose from the sands of Tatooine, and the planet of her enslavement, a planet full of her ghosts, fell away to the black freedom of space. They paused just outside of the atmosphere while the computer calculated the hyperspace jump. Shila stared in awe out the windows, stars in her eyes; a free child with the galaxy at her fingertips.

Anakin stared at the little yellow ball that had been her prison for her entire life. She held Shila a little tighter, and a vow passed her lips. “I will die before I ever set foot on that planet again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And for whoever guessed that Shila's babysitter was Beru, you were right!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin and Shila are sped away from Tatooine and towards a new life of freedom and promise.

* * *

 

 

Tatooine was far behind them. The luxury yacht sped through hyperspace, every second carrying Anakin farther and farther away from her prison. The young woman seemed frozen, holding her sister, staring out the viewport; not quite mesmerized by the whorls of hyperspace, but petrified by all of the opportunity before her.

Freedom. It had to be a lot to take in for a woman who had spent her entire life a slave.

Even Shila, at such a young age, seemed to grasp the magnitude of the shift her life had just taken. Ever since she had been reunited with her sister, the child’s every breath had been converted into a constant, excited babble that Obi-Wan’s translator had struggled to keep up with. Now she was sober and silent, clinging tightly to her sister.

Obi-Wan would have given the former slaves all the time they needed to adjust to their new freedom if not for the growing dark stain on Anakin’s back. Clearly, their rush job on her incision had reached its limit. “Anakin, let’s go get you patched up properly.” He gently laid a hand on her uninjured shoulder, but by the way she flinched away from him, it was as if he had slapped a hand right onto her wound. Obi-Wan drew his hand back quickly.

“Sorry,” she muttered, turning away from the viewport to face him, but not quite meeting his eyes.

“I didn’t mean to startle you, but you’ve bled through your bandage. There is a first aid kit in the lounge.”

Vos looked over his shoulder from the pilot’s chair. “It’s a short jump to Naboo; we’ll be there in an hour.”

Still holding Shila tight, Anakin followed Obi-Wan from the cockpit. The lounge was plush and lavish; all soft velvets, smooth silks, and overstuffed cushions. Shila finally squirmed free of Anakin’s grip and took to exploring every corner of the room while Anakin stood frozen in the middle, looking rather unnerved and slightly nauseous.

“Why don’t you sit down, Anakin,” Obi-Wan gestured to several chairs, “I’ll get the kit.”

He searched through a few cabinets, hidden almost seamlessly in the wall near the small wet bar. He gathered the necessary supplies and turned to find Anakin had perched on an ottoman. She had already removed her shirts, holding the stolen paramedic’s jacket to her front to cover herself. Her back was turned to him while she kept a close eye on Shila, and Obi-Wan could see the streaks of blood that had trickled down her back through the blood soaked bandage.

He filled a bowl with warm water and grabbed a couple cloths before walking over to Anakin. She eyed him silently, warily, looking paler than just a minute before. He set the supplies down on an end table and said, “Why don’t you lie down on the couch, Anakin. It’ll be easier to clean your wound.

“Okay,” she said softly.

Obi-Wan dutifully averted his eyes to arrange what he needed from the first aid kit while Anakin moved to the couch and lay on her stomach. He could feel fear coiling through her, paralyzing her mind and stuttering her heart. And beneath the fear was pain; emotional and psychological, but also quite a lot of physical pain. Obi-Wan dug a pain killer out of the kit.

“I’m going to clean the blood first,” he explained, wetting a cloth. Anakin nodded silently and he began sponging the blood off. The room was silent while he worked, save for Shila’s bright proclamations when she discovered something new in the room. Only once did Anakin call out a warning to her sister to not break anything, and Shila obeyed.

Obi-Wan was unconcerned. He was certain that this yacht was most often used when the governor traveled with his family – young grandchildren included. It was thoroughly childproofed.

He worked quickly, but gently, growing more and more aware of Anakin’s growing discomfort as the minutes passed. Obi-Wan narrated quietly what he was doing, waiting for Anakin’s approval before moving onto the next step of tending her wound. He couldn’t begrudge her distrust and discomfort. Lying nearly naked next to a man, basically a stranger, and entirely at the mercy of his whims would make anyone tense.

Anakin had trusted him easily on Tatooine because he was a means to escape for her and Shila. Now as freedpeople, trust would have to be built the old fashioned way. Obi-Wan had a feeling that without having Anakin delve into his mind again to feel out his true intentions it would take a very long time to build up a strong trust. He wasn’t going to do anything to give her reason to not trust him.

The cloth was stained red and the bowl of water was a vivid bloody color before Anakin’s wound had been cleaned enough for further treatment. She was still bleeding rather profusely for such a small wound – it was going to require stitches as well as bacta. Obi-Wan had suspected as much was going to be necessary just by the rate she had bled through her first bandage. The incision was irrigated with an antimicrobial wash before he picked up a small hypo.

“I’m afraid you’re going to need a few stitches to help hold the wound closed. I’m going to apply something to numb the area, alright?”

“Okay,” Anakin said into her folded arms. She barely twitched as the hypo made several small injections around the area.

Obi-Wan waited a moment for the medication to take effect before he picked up the needle and surgical thread. He was silent while he worked, needing to reach back to his padawan training to recall how to properly perform the suture. It was a skill that he had – thankfully – not needed to use yet in his knighthood, but Master Che’s teachings came back quickly. Three careful stitches later, Obi-Wan set the needle aside and reached for the bacta.

Anakin perked and turned to look behind her when he popped the cap and the distinct scent of the medical gel wafted out. “You’re using bacta?” Her voice was a mix of surprise, fascination, and concern.

“Of course.” Obi-Wan said distractedly as he scooped some of the gel onto a sterile swab. “It is the most efficient way to heal your wound.”

“But isn’t that a bit of a wa—“ Anakin cut herself off and laid her head down on her folded arms.

_A waste_ , is what she was going to say, and Obi-Wan knew that. There was going to be an adjustment period for Anakin to get used to life as a free woman and as a citizen of the Republic. “Bacta is not as scarce in the Republic as in the Outer Rim,” he explained gently, and then after a pause, added in a reassuring tone, “And it’s not a waste to use it on someone who needs it.” He applied a liberal layer of the gel to Anakin’s wound and then placed a thick bandage over top. Reaching for the cloth one last time, he wiped away the last of the blood. “There, you’ll be good as new in a few days.”

Anakin moved to sit up, and Obi-Wan looked away to clean up the supplies. He spied a few stray drops of blood on the floor and couch, but nothing the cleaning droids wouldn’t be able to take care of. Once they left the lounge, he’d activate them, and the blood would be gone in a matter of seconds.

“What about Shila?” Anakin asked, pulling her undershirt over her head. “What about her tracker?”

Obi-Wan looked to the corner where the child had found a small stash of toys. “She’s in no immediate danger. We should wait until we’re on Coruscant and in a proper medical ward before trying to remove hers.”

“But it’ll come out?”

Obi-Wan hid his frown by turning to replace the first aid kit in its cabinet. Did Anakin really think they would allow a child to live the rest of her life with a literal bomb inside her? “I give you my word.” He turned back to see Anakin staring down at the bloodied jacket in her lap, chewing on her lower lip, her brows knit tightly together. She was weighing the value of Obi-Wan’s word.

At this point in time, she had no other option but to trust his word, and she was resigned to that fact. Obi-Wan mentally noted to be careful with what he said to Anakin. He didn’t want to give her any false hope only to have it crushed upon reaching Coruscant.

Obi-Wan looked the two former slaves over. Shila was in her new set of clothes, but Anakin’s were torn, dirty, and bloody. Perhaps she would feel more comfortable in something clean and whole. This was a governor’s family yacht, there had to be a set of clothes left in a wardrobe that would fit Anakin. He suggested as such, and the young woman did brighten a touch at the prospect of clean clothes. Shila followed them as they explored the ship, clearly unwilling to leave her sister’s side for too long.

They poked through a few rooms and their closets. The first room was full of children’s clothing; too large for Shila, too small for Anakin. The second room only had men’s clothing; a little too large for Anakin, but it would suit her in a pinch. They struck gold in the third room; the governor’s state room. One wardrobe was filled with men’s clothing – several sizes too large for Anakin. The other was filled with women’s clothing, and close in size to Anakin – clearly the governor’s wife’s travel wardrobe. Anakin seemed rather overwhelmed by the sheer amount of clothes crammed into the small wardrobe. Obi-Wan was unsurprised – politicians made as many statements with their clothing as they did with their words.

While most of the clothes were rather lavish, he did find a few simpler items and pull them out for Anakin, bypassing the traditional Nubian items and anything that looked like it had too extreme of a neckline – he didn’t want to make Anakin feel uncomfortable. Then he took his leave, telling Anakin to find him in the cockpit when she was ready.

“You know,” Vos mused aloud as soon as Obi-Wan stepped into the cockpit. “I think she’s getting more anxious the farther we get from Tatooine.”

“Can you blame her?” Obi-Wan asked, dropping into the co-pilot’s seat. “She’s stepping into entirely new territory.”

“No, not really, but we are going to have to teach her some shielding before we get her to the Temple. She’s projecting enough anxiety to set me on edge. No wonder the Council was able to sense her from Coruscant. Anybody with a hint of sensitivity is going to sense her coming from a parsec away.”

“Quinlan, what do you think the Council will do with her?”

The Kiffar sighed while he thought. “I’m not entirely sure. They’ll want to meet her and Shila, I’m sure of that.”

“But what happens after? Anakin is far too old to induct into the Order, and I’m not sure she would give up Shila either.”

“I don’t think the Council will let her go too far, even if she never becomes a Jedi Knight. At the very least, I hope they will teach her how to control her powers and protect herself from the growing dark influences in the galaxy. But Anakin is free now; she can do as she pleases."

Obi-Wan nodded, knowing that much of what played out in Anakin’s future was out of his hands. "I suppose we will have to trust in the wisdom of the Council.”

The navicomputer pinged informing them that they would be reaching their destination in a few short minutes. Vos turned back to the pilot’s controls, preparing for their descent onto Naboo.

“So, Obi-Wan, you’re more familiar with the Mid Rim than I am. I imagine we’re done slumming around with bounty hunters and their ilk. Which highfalutin politicians will we be rubbing elbows with tonight?”

Obi-Wan finished running Vos through Naboo’s political key players just as the ship dropped out of hyperspace. Vos took over communicating with the Capital to get landing clearance. The Jedi was unsurprised to sense Anakin approaching the cockpit at a rather rapid pace once they entered realspace again.

Anakin burst through the door and gasped, “What wrong?”

Obi-Wan siphoned away her smothering anxiety and said as calmly as possible. “Nothing, Anakin. We’ve just reached Naboo.”

Her eyes went up to the viewport and to the blue and green planet dominating the view. She gasped again, a hand flying over her mouth. “That’s all water?” she breathed. “I’d heard of planets that were mostly water, but I…” she trailed off, unable to put her doubts into words.

Shila gasped in delight and wonder, pushing past her sister and climbing up into Obi-Wan’s lap to get as close to the viewport as possible.

“ _What’s that green?”_ she demanded, pointing to one of the larger continents.

“ _Those are plants. Trees and flowers.”_ Vos explained kindly.

“ _All of it’s plants?”_ Shila asked. Vos nodded, then she thought for a moment and said. “ _What’s a tree?”_

The Jedi was stymied. A tree was something he had always known from his earliest memories in the Temple. How did he explain what one was to a child who had never seen one? Then, smiling at the image of seeing Shila discover what exactly a tree was for herself, he said, “ _That is something you will see very soon, little one_.”

Shila beamed at the Jedi and then back at her sister, excitedly proclaiming that she was going to see a tree, and nearly elbowing Obi-Wan in the face. Anakin scooped her sister up, saving Obi-Wan from any further injuries, and tried to answer the rapid fire questions falling from her sister’s mouth.

Yes, she had seen a tree before. No, it had only been a picture. How was she supposed to know what it smelled like? No, you didn’t _eat_ trees.

Finally Shila fell quiet again, watching with wide eyes as Naboo grew larger and larger in their viewport. She had been set loose again, with very strict instructions to not climb on anyone or anything again.

Anakin finally had a moment to ask some very important questions. “What happens now?” she asked Obi-Wan as she smoothed out her skirt. She had chosen a very simple shift-style dress, with a modest neckline, long sleeves, and a full length skirt, in navy blue with black lace accents at the cuffs and hem line. It was a simplest of choices that Obi-Wan had pulled out for her. She just hoped whoever owned the dress would not mind a former slave wearing it.

“We will land in the capital of Naboo, Theed City, and return our ship to its owner.”

“And after that?”

“We’ll find transport back to Coruscant and take you to meet the Jedi Council.”

“And after that?”

Obi-Wan paused before admitting, “I’m afraid I cannot say. I do not know what the Council may want from you, nor what opportunities you may find upon reaching Coruscant. From there, you have the whole galaxy open to you to explore.”

“Not the whole galaxy,” Anakin muttered. “If M- … If Jabba knows that I’m still alive he will take me back.”

Fear lanced out from Anakin again. As much as it may appear to her, the Hutts did not own the entirety of the galaxy. Anakin would be safe from the Hutts now that she was in the Republic. “We won’t let that happen,” Obi-Wan promised.

The remainder of the landing passed without incident. Anakin and Shila watched intently as they flew into Theed and approached the palace hangars. As Vos powered down the ship, they could see a small group approaching.

“Ah, excellent, the Governor has sent an escort,” Obi-Wan observed. He turned to Anakin and Shila and flashed them a warm smile. “Are you ready?”

Anakin was practically trembling, but she nodded confidently and held Shila’s hand. The child held no reservations about her first steps onto a new planet as a free person, and she was simply excited to explore this new world. They followed the Jedi to the boarding ramp and waited for it to lower.

With a hiss of pressure and hydraulics, the ramp descended slowly.

Anakin caught her first breath of Naboo air. It was humid, and warmer than the ship, but colder than Tatooine. She shivered, thought she was unsure whether it was from anticipation or from the change in atmosphere.

As the ramp touched the ground, she had a brief moment of fear, and briefly wished that she didn’t have to face all of these new people. Sure, the Jedi didn’t seem to mind that she was an ex-slave, but would the people of Naboo harbor the same feelings? Would they be able to tell, just by looking at her what she was?

Anakin shook away the thoughts when Shila clung to her leg in a sudden fit of nerves. She smiled down at her sister, placed her hand on top of her head, and whispered. “Come, Shila. No fear. We are free now.”

Hand in hand, the sisters walked down the ramp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay and short chapter, all. I've had less free time this summer than I thought I would.  
> The next chapter is almost ready though, so hopefully it won't be as long between updates. I'm trying to stay ahead in my writing so the story doesn't die half way through.  
> Thanks for reading and leaving all your lovely comments and kudos!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin gets her first taste of life as a free person in the Republic as she is welcomes to Naboo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Padme finally joins the party!  
> Thank you all for reading and leaving your lovely comments on the last chapter! They were really inspirational when this chapter was being uncooperative.

* * *

 

Anakin held Shila’s hand a little tighter as they followed the Jedi and their escort through the polished marble halls of the palace. She was rather unnerved by the highly polished stone and tried to keep her eyes off her reflection beneath her feet. She shuddered to think of the poor slaves who were required to polish the stone to such a high shine. Shila was too young to have such qualms, and she was thoroughly engrossed in everything that caught her eye.

The child was in absolute awe of the magic and splendor of the palace. Anakin couldn’t help but feel a little resentful of the opulence.

Finally, they entered a large, airy chamber that was clearly meant for receiving guests. The tall, opened windows let in a comfortable breeze that fluttered the gauzy curtains in lazy waves. Anakin could hear birdsong, and a wet, dribbling noise she couldn’t identify. Plush chairs were scattered around in a couple separated seating areas, and along one wall were several tables with platters of fruit and pastries. Anakin caught a flash of fabric vacating the room just as they entered. It seemed that these palace slaves were trained to be unseen.

Several large hallways branched out from the room, each seemingly identical to the one they entered from. A portly, elderly man with bone white hair and a pointed beard to match was waiting by one of the halls. He approached their group as they entered with a smile and cheery voice.

“Masters Kenobi and Vos, I am glad to see you are returned to us in good health. I trust my ship served you well.”

“It was excellent, Governor Bibble. And there’s not a scratch on her, but you may be sweeping sand out of the crevices for a while,” Obi-Wan replied genially.

The governor chuckled politely at the joke for a moment before clearing his throat and saying briskly, “I do apologize for cutting the pleasantries short, but Queen Jamilla is already waiting for you. Shall we?”

“Yes, thank you, Governor,” Obi-Wan replied with a gracious nod. He then turned to Anakin and Shila. “Wait here, please, we shouldn’t be long.”

Anakin nodded, pressing her lips together tightly. Their escort, the Jedi, and the new man all turned and hurried down a corridor, and within moments they were out of sight. Anakin released Shila’s hand with a stern command to be on her best behavior.

“ _Yes, Ani_!” Shila said before she darted off to explore every nook and cranny of the room.

Anakin suppressed a sigh and followed after her to ensure she didn’t get herself hurt or break anything. After several minutes of investigating the chairs and sofas and proclaiming how incredibly soft they were, Shila found her attention drawn to a door on the far side of the room.

“ _I wanna see what’s out there!_ ” she cried before rushing towards the door.

“ _Only look, Shila!_ ” Anakin called after her, jogging to keep up.

They reached the doorway at the same time, and even Anakin couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her lips. The doorway led into a small courtyard garden, filled with plants; trees and shrubs and flowers in more colors than Anakin even knew existed. Birds and insects flitted happily between tree branches and flowers. Decorative benches and lanterns lined a small, meandering, gravel path through the garden. And right in the center of it all was a large fountain that appeared to be made of the same polished stone as the palace. Figures had been carved in the stone; humans and several species of native creatures – Anakin recognized the gualaar that had pulled her pod for so many years – and intricately delicate details were gilded onto the stone. But the most breathtaking was the water. Anakin had never seen that much water used so frivolously. It trickled and burbled and splashed into the large basin endlessly. There were no covers to keep it from evaporating, and no collectors to retain any evaporation at all.

“ _What is that, Ani?”_ Shila asked in a small voice, equally stunned by the display. Anakin had to think a moment to find an appropriate description. Tatooine’s brand of Huttese had no word for ‘fountain’. Shila walked right up to the edge of the fountain and leaned over as far as she could. “ _Is it for drinking?”_

“ _No, it’s not_.” Anakin could catch the chemical tang off the mist of the fountain. Whatever they had treated it with it rendered the water completely undrinkable. What kind of useless waste was that? She suddenly found herself frustrated and disgusted by the fountain, its undrinkable water, and even the harmless flower petals that danced in the eddies and ripples created by the falling streams.

“ _Let’s go back inside,_ ” Anakin muttered, taking Shila’s hand. Her sister followed without protest. Anakin didn’t know how long the Jedi’s meeting would last, and she didn’t want to disappear for too long, or be difficult to find.

The parlor was no longer empty. Anakin had a brief flash of panic that she _had_ kept the Jedi waiting on them, but it was quashed quickly. Sitting in one of the seating areas was a woman. Her brown hair was caught up in a headdress, and she looked down at a datapad in her hands. Clearly she was working; Anakin didn’t want to disrupt her.

Shila, however, didn’t have such reservations. “ _Ani, who’s that?_ ”

Anakin winced slightly as the woman turned to see who had spoken. “ _Hush, Shila, let’s not bother her. Are you hungry? Do you want something to eat?_ ” She looked back to the woman, flashing an apologetic smile, ready to assure her that they weren’t going to bother her, but then she froze.

The woman had to be one of the most beautiful people Anakin had ever seen. The gentle curve of the woman’s face, the soft smile on her lips, the sparkle in her warm brown eyes; they were… Anakin didn’t have much of a reference to compare the woman to.

She thought she had. Her years as a slave had given her the opportunity to serve what she had believed to be the extent of beauty in the galaxy among all races and genders.  She knew what qualities made beauty and yet, she had never seen someone like this woman. She wasn’t other-worldly or ethereal, like the famed angels of Iego. She was an ordinary human woman, and somehow extraordinary in that way.

“Hello,” the woman called to them with a smile.

“Ah, hello,” Anakin said back, politely but shyly. Her eyes caught movement behind the woman, and she saw the three other figures in the room. A pair of other women, dressed simply to avoid drawing attention, standing by a doorway with a uniformed man with dark skin and an eye patch. They appeared to be in conversation, but they kept a close eye on Anakin and the other woman. Servants, bodyguards, slaves. Anakin’s excited heart slammed to a cold stop. This beautiful woman was just like any other rich person in the galaxy; guilty of the ugliest sin. She kept her tone polite and coolly detached. “We didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“You’re not disturbing me at all. Please, come sit.” The woman gestured to the seats beside her. Anakin couldn’t refuse. Surely this woman could see she was a former slave – a master always could tell. What would the repercussions be if she refused without the Jedi to prove her freedom?

“I don’t believe we’ve met before,” Padmé said once they approached. She had studied Anakin shrewdly the entire time. “Are you visitors?”

“Ah, yes, from offworld.” Anakin winced mentally as soon as the words passed her lips. She didn’t know how anything worked in the Republic, much less Naboo; a place she had only known by name. Were out-worlders supposed to be escorted or supervised? She knew things in the Republic were supposed to be much more regulated than any Outer Rim planet.

“I’m Padmé Amidala, Senator of Naboo,” The woman said, extending her hand to shake.

Anakin looked at her offered hand shocked for a half second before taking it. That was a first. Maybe Padmé couldn’t tell Anakin was a slave. She didn’t think a change of clothes and a quick wash in the ‘fresher sink had done anything drastic, but maybe it had. “I’m Anakin Skywalker and my sister Shila.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, and you Miss Shila.” Padmé actually crouched down to take her sister’s hand in her own. Shila was too awestruck to speak, and her arm flopped like a wet noodle in Padmé’s grip.

They settled into the chairs, with Shila next to Anakin on a small couch. Padmé moved with a grace and poise Anakin had rarely seen on Tatooine. Most of the Hutt’s clients were other Outer Rimmers, gang lords, spacers, bounty hunters, and criminals, but every season or so someone from the Middle or Inner Rim would grace the pleasure dens with their presence. They had deep pockets and money to burn; only the best slaves served them. The rich and sophisticated from the inside zones of the galaxy always moved differently than an out-worlder.

“So, Anakin, what brings you to Naboo?”

“Shila and I are traveling to Coruscant with some Jedi. We stopped to return a ship the Jedi borrowed.”

“Oh, Master Kenobi is back from Tatooine?”

Anakin nodded. Was this Senator supposed to know much about Jedi business? The Jedi were little more than myths out on Tatooine; she assumed they were rather secretive with their intentions.

“Excellent!” Padmé didn’t even move, but Anakin could see the group of three behind her moving silently, signing something to each other. “I hope his mission went well.” Something sparked in Padmé’s eyes, and she continued before Anakin could do even muster a shrug. “Are you from Tatooine?”

“Yes.”  Anakin opted to keep her answers short and not give away more than necessary.

“It’s a desert planet, is it not?” Padmé asked. “I’ve never been myself.”

“Yes, it’s very different from Naboo.”

Padmé smiled gently, politely. It was a practiced, measured thing. “I imagine it would be. Have you traveled much?”

Anakin shook her head. “No, this is our first time off planet.”

“Then allow me to be the first to officially welcome you to Naboo.” Padmé’s smile widened into something more genuine. “What is your business with the Jedi?”

“They are taking me and Shila to Coruscant to meet with their Council. Beyond that, I do not know what their intentions are.”

“Really?” Padmé cocked her head ever so slightly to the side and the shrewd, calculating look returned to her eyes. It wasn’t cold, but Anakin knew the look of appraisal all the same.

Anakin couldn’t help but avert her eyes. She smoothed the fabric of the borrowed dress over her knees and looked to her sister. Shila was well behaved, but Anakin knew her sister was about the jump out of her skin with excitement. Undoubtedly she had a thousand questions she was desperate to ask.

Questions that Anakin was certain Padmé didn’t have the time or patience to answer. The woman was a senator; she couldn’t be bothered to entertain the whims of toddlers and ex-slaves. In fact, Padmé probably had important work to return to, and she was only humoring Anakin to be polite. Anakin was just about to formulate a line about taking Shila back to the garden to burn off some of her energy when Padmé asked another question.

“Have you been on Naboo long? Have you had a chance to explore?”

“Ah, no, we only just landed a little while ago. We came directly from the landing platform to here.”

Padmé nodded; a look of understanding on her face. Behind her, the servants continued to sign to each other with subtle gestures. They were clearly gaining more from this conversation than Anakin was. She felt her training beginning to kick in. Slaves who revealed too much information learned the hard way to keep any secrets to themselves.

Beside her, Shila squirmed impatiently. She cared little for any conversation she wasn’t involved in, much less one in a language she couldn’t understand. “ _Ani, I’m hungry._ ”

Anakin shushed her quietly. “ _In a moment, Shila. We must wait and be polite.”_

“Is everything alright?” Padmé asked.

Anakin nodded. She doubted anyone here spoke Huttese. It would be easy to cover for Shila’s impatience. She knew from experience some people had no patience for children, and she didn’t want to press her luck. “Yes, she just had a question about the garden. It’s very beautiful.”

Padmé smiled with practiced, political warmth at the compliment. “Thank you. Will you be staying on Naboo long? There are some splendid botanical gardens in the city that are well worth a visit if you have a free afternoon.”

“I don’t know how long we’ll be here,” Anakin admitted. “We left Tatooine quickly, but I don’t know the Jedi’s intentions.”

“You must have had a long day of travel,” Padmé said, sympathy tinting her voice. “Would you care for some refreshments?”

Before Anakin had a chance to articulate her thanks for the offer but deny it, a handmaiden was at her side with a silver tray. Shila gasped quietly in delight at the beautiful pastries and juicy fruit being presented to her. Anakin swallowed her instinctive revulsion at being served by another slave. She had to keep up appearances until the Jedi returned. She picked a small china plate and placed some fruit and a pastry on it for Shila. The child immediately went for the pastry.

“Can I get you anything else, milady?”

It took Anakin a second to realize that the handmaiden was speaking to her. “No, I’m fine, thank you.” The servant bobbed a short bow and retreated. Anakin watched her shrewdly for a moment. Did she understand Huttese? Or had she simply followed the expected steps to make the Senator appear a gracious hostess. The latter was more likely.

Padmé asked a few more polite, but probing questions, and Anakin answered neutrally in turn. Making sure Shila didn’t spill her plate of fruit was a reasonable enough reason to keep her eyes averted and her answers neutral. Padmé appeared nice, but she was also a slave owner. Even though Anakin and Shila were no longer slaves, that didn’t put them on the same level as the Senator.

With her hunger satiated and Padmé appearing to be kind, Shila’s tongue loosened and her shyness begin to disappear. When a question struck her, she would ask Anakin, and her sister translated the question and Padmé’s answers. They were very simple, childish questions. What was the fountain? How did they grow so many plants? Where was the sand? And others of the sort.

Padmé, to her great credit showed no impatience. She even seemed to enjoy the childish questions to a certain degree. A fond smile pulled at her lips when she had to think up an answer.

Anakin began to wonder if the Senator had children of her own. Surely with her beauty, she had married early and wealthily.

Despite her earlier reservations, Anakin began to feel herself warm to the Senator. Shila very nearly trusted the woman with her life, and it was difficult to not feel and absorb some of the trust from her sister. As they conversed, her words became less stilted.

“ _Ani._ ” Shila tugged on her sleeve and pulled her sister closer. She whispered in Anakin’s ear and then looked away bashfully, focusing more on her plate of fruit than the woman across from them.

“What did she say?” Padmé asked with a kind smile still on her lips.

Anakin felt a little embarrassed and flustered, but she dutifully translated. “She said that you are very beautiful, and she wanted to know if you were an angel.”

Padmé’s smile widened. “No, I’m just human, but thank you for the compliment, Shila.”

Anakin translated, and the little girl beamed at Padmé. Then she tugged on Anakin’s sleeve again and muttered something else. Anakin flushed red and quietly admonished her sister.

“What is it this time?” Padmé asked, her grin now a curious smirk.

Anakin coughed nervously. “Oh, you know how children are… it’s just something silly.”

“I have a niece just about her age. She has no filter whatsoever.” Padmé agreed with a laugh. It was soft and musical, and Anakin wished it lasted more than a few chuckles. “So what did she way?”

Anakin felt her cheeks flushed even brighter, but she dutifully translated. “She thinks that I should marry you.”

“What?” Padmé laughed again.

“I’m sorry,” Anakin hurried to explain. “It’s something she says about everyone I know.”

Sometime in the last few months, Shila had discovered the concept of marriage and had believed that any person that was in her sister’s life should marry Anakin or had already married her. She had made countless explanations to her fellow slaves – fortunately, they all mostly understood the idealism of childhood.

Marriages amongst slaves weren’t unheard of, but they were hardly binding. They were symbolic at best. And at worst just another heart breaking dream for better lives. Either way, the concept had never appealed to Anakin. She didn’t see the point of torturing herself with something she knew was impossible.

“No, it’s alright.” Padmé assured her with an easy wave of her hand. “It’s not the first time someone had thought I should marry them. I just couldn’t help but laugh because my niece said just about the same thing yesterday about my tailor.” Padmé regained her easy smile. “Children are more perceptive than we give them credit for. Perhaps your sister thinks you are lonely. Are you?”

Anakin opened her mouth to retort with “ _Companionship and marriage is for freedpeople_.” But then she remembered that she wasn’t on Tatooine, and Padmé didn’t know she was a slave. She was enjoying this conversation and she didn’t want to ruin it. Surely, as soon as Padmé learned of Anakin’s true status, she’d send her away, or put her to work, or get mad for being deceived. “I’ve been a little too busy recently for that,” she offered noncommittally.

“But you didn’t answer the question.”

“What question?”

“Are you lonely?”

Anakin paused and reconsidered. She’d had friends on Tatooine, people she could easy chat with or share a meal, but they never really fulfilled her need for companionship. And of course she had Shila, but there were other things she wanted from the people in her life. Things she might be able to experience now she was free. “Yeah, I guess I am,” she admitted quietly.

The shade of a melancholy, sympathetic look passed behind Padmé’s eyes for a brief moment. Anakin wondered if the Senator was lonely as well. She may be on the complete opposite end of the spectrum, but at her station true companionship was probably as difficult to find as it was for a slave. Wealth and power drew many enemies – Anakin had seen such her entire life – and some enemies weren’t forthright with their intentions. She had lost count of the number of times she had witnessed someone being fed a poisoned drink by their friend. On several occasions, her own Master had used Anakin to deliver the poison to a client who had fallen out of favor.

Voices down the passage that the Jedi had disappeared to broke whatever remained of the conversation. The sadness in the Senator’s eyes was gone in an instant and she was on her feet, smoothing any wrinkles from her skirts. The Jedi had returned.

Padmé was crossing the room before Anakin had a chance to set the empty plate down and pick Shila up. “Master Kenobi, it’s wonderful to see you again.”

Obi-Wan bowed to her. “Senator Amidala, it’s a pleasure as always to see you. I hope you are well. Have you met Master Vos before?”

“I haven’t had the pleasure,” Padmé said, turning to greet the Kiffar.

By this point, Anakin and Shila had joined them. Obi-Wan gestured to them. “And you’ve met Anakin and Shila Skywalker.”

“Yes, we were having some lovely conversation.” Padmé smiled at them once again. “I hear you are returning to Coruscant soon?”

“Yes, the plan is to book passage on a passenger liner.”

“Well, before you book anything, I suggest you speak with Captain Typho.” Padmé gestured subtly and her bodyguard approached. “I also have business to return to Coruscant for and I believe we may be able to find a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

“Of course, Senator, we’d be happy find an agreeable arrangement.” Padmé turned slightly to face the page who had just come from the same corridor as the Jedi. The Queen was ready for her. She turned back to the Jedi and asked quickly. “Have you arranged lodgings for the night yet?”

“Not yet, that was going to be our next task.”

Padmé smiled, her eyes roving over the two Jedi and then Anakin. “Stay at my place. There’s more than enough room.”

“That sounds nice. Thank you, Senator.”

By the pace and tone of the conversation, Anakin had a feeling that this was one that had been done several times over, and was only happening for propriety’s sake. The Senator and Obi-Wan clearly had a history together; a long friendship judging from the fond looks in their eyes.

“Excellent. I’m afraid I must go meet with the Queen, but I will see you all later.” With a final smile, Padmé turned on her heel and strode off after the waiting page, her two handmaidens falling into step behind her.

Obi-Wan waited until she disappeared before turning to Typho. His voice was still light, but his face was suddenly serious. “So Captain, tell me what threatens the Senator now.”


End file.
